


Joy and Comfort

by AnnewithanEStory, Ozdiva



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gossip, House of Dreams, Letters, Married Life, Neighbours, Pregnancy, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-01-30 09:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 27,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21426217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnewithanEStory/pseuds/AnnewithanEStory, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozdiva/pseuds/Ozdiva
Summary: Collab between Annewithanestory and Ozdiva. This is a series of letters between Anne Blythe and Marilla Cuthbert set after Anne and Gilbert have married and Anne has moved to the House of Dreams. Canon compatible.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 204
Kudos: 183





	1. Chapter 1

18 September 1890

Green Gables  
Avonlea

My Darling Anne,

Mother always said you needed a birth, a death and a marriage before a house could be considered a home. We waited a long time to meet those requirements didn't we; but we got there in the end. I can honestly say, hand on heart that you did the old place and the tradition proud. You were right fetching - our first bride of Green Gables.

How proud Matthew would have been of you, Anne. His little girl all grown up to be a fine stylish lady. But he was always proud of you, the way you arrived in our quiet home flinging yourself into life with such gusto especially given such a difficult start. We had never seen anything like it, you must know it was love at first sight.

When you walked down the old stairs yesterday, slender and shining-eyed, in the mist of your maiden veil, your arms full of roses I spied Gilbert through my tears gazing up at you with adoring eyes and knew without a shadow of a doubt that you two would be so blissful together. I felt as though all my old hurts and disappointments had a purpose after all if it brought you two together.

I was shocked when you announced that you wanted to wed in the orchard, but you were quite right to conduct it there. No church could hold the pure unadulterated joy that emanated from such a perfect couple. Your leafy cathedral suited you both perfectly. It reminded me of that first prayer you made by your little old bed your second night here at Green Gables do you recall it? You asked me why people must kneel down to pray and that you'd rather go into the deep deep woods and look up up into the blue sky. Is that why you chose the orchard, to be closer to God? 

Did you hear the bird singing from some hidden bough in the orchard? I fancy it was singing its wee heart out at your blessed nuptials as if on behalf of all of the Island's animals.

You'll think I've gone all misty eyed and romantic with a line like that, I can just hear Rachel commenting that I've mellowed or some such nonsense. Have I, Anne? Well maybe so, maybe so. One can do that in one's old age or so I've heard tell. I'm sure folks still think of me as the irritable and frosty old lady who lives up the end of the lane; unapproachable and mean-hearted, but even my bitter old heart quite melted when I saw you and Gilbert wed. Don't you go telling folks that though, I need my reputation to remain unaltered thank you very much.

I watched you all day, Anne and every time you caught sight of Gilbert your face lit up. I suppose Ella Blythe witnessed the same thing with Gilbert, but I had eyes only for you. Did you get a chance to talk to many people? When it's your party you invite everyone you know, and so often never get a chance to talk to them. I saw you on occasion in the distance flitting around chatting with this one and that, running from one person to the next. I hope the day did not pass in a blur and that you can recall who said what.

I hope your journey to your House of Dreams was a pleasant one. Did Gilbert carry you over the threshold? You must have been exhausted, but how wonderful for you to have a nice little house to call home. Now you will have a wonderful time making it your very own. I can only imagine what it will look like when you are finished.

Watching you and Gilbert drive down the lane and out of sight was simultaneously the happiest and saddest day of my life. I was naturally delighted to see you so happily wed to the right man and to see how transfixed you were by his presence; but sad because now you really have left Green Gables for good. I am sure you will be back to visit and that I will visit you often. The track back and forth will be trodden by us both many times, of that I am sure. But no longer will Green Gables be your home, and that does make me rather blue. I mustn't be self-pitying Anne you are off on a great new adventure and I am happy for you. Ignore your little old mother here, she is being silly.

Of course I am far from lonely; I have Rachel and the twins to keep me company, but you are the girl of my heart, Anne and ever will be. I couldn't help thinking of that skinny wee waif in the tight yellow wincey who unexpectedly arrived all those years ago. I always feel guilty about my reaction. It was a shock is all, but that does not excuse my response. Trust my dear brother to set me straight; he knew I had an Anne shaped hole in my heart.

As anticipated Dora has moved into your little gabled bedroom Anne and is busily making it her own. She has removed your things; I will send them along in due course and is busily redecorating with a more modern touch. This is of course right and proper she is growing up and has every right to make that room her own now. Still I get a little pang when I see it out the corner of my eye and know that you will no longer be sleeping in it. That you will not be at the end of the passageway. That we can never again have a late-night chat in your room or down in the kitchen. There I go again, I must stop.

Rachel has to put her oar in and has a couple of things to add to my letter. I have suggested she write her own and she says she will in due course; but since I am writing now, she just wants to add her own two cents worth. However, you have my blessing to disregard it at your will, Anne. You are an adult now with your own house to run. Between the two of you, you are a match for the Rachel Lyndes of this world.

However, she says remember your warm underwear, even at this time of the year the nights can be cool; she's worried you might catch a chill. Additionally, and I blush to write this, she urged me to say that she hopes you had a pleasant wedding night. Anne, Rachel winked when she said 'pleasant'. I know what she means do not think I am such an innocent as that, but it is of course none of our business and I chided her for the question, but she told me to include it anyways.

Speaking of Rachel, she tells me she gave you a little pep talk the other week; I hope she did not scare you too much. I am not sure that it was respectable for her to give you marital advice, in truth I am bit put out about it. By rights that should have been my role, but as you know I have scant knowledge of that sort of thing. I have not always had the right advice to share with you and that pains me more than I can say. I found it hard enough when you were young and now I find my limited life experience has once again proved inadequate. I hope this will not prove to be a problem going forward. Oh dear, I'm being maudlin and that will never do this is a happy occasion after all.

I have received many fine letters from our guests thanking me for hosting such a truly lovely event; they were honoured to be invited. I was particularly touched to receive one from the Blythes. Muriel Stacy wrote she was real sad to have missed out, but of course it's a long way to California. I am sure between the two of us we can fill her in on the details. Mary Maria Blythe wrote to tell me that her chicken salad was cold, her seat was hard and draughty, and her dining companion was dull. Now there's a sour 'un. Doesn't she call you Annie? I'm sure you just love that.

Diana and the Echo Lodge folk and the Allans joined us for supper after you left which gave us an opportunity to chat about the events of the day. It was very kind of them to stay with us, for I have to admit Anne the house seems very quiet without you in it.

It occurred to me as I watched your carriage drive down the lane way and out of sight how twisty and turning my life has been. Once upon a time I thought I could see a very long dark straight tunnel stretched before me. That was my life, sewing, mending, cooking, baking, ladies aid meetings, church etc. Not a bad life all things considered, but not terribly interesting either.

Then a scant fourteen years ago, all that changed when a red haired elf landed splat into the middle of our lives, her eddies reaching out so very far. Where once the house had been deathly quiet, it was now noisy with girlish chatter. Where once each day was as predictable as the last, I never knew of what my day would consist. Where once the months stretched out with only the changing seasons to mark time, now each week had an adventure of some sort. Who could have thought motherhood would be such a marvelous adventure?

But look this is a long enough letter already, you will be too busy to read it. I look forward to your letter in response in which I hope you will tell me all about your life over there at Four Winds.

Davy and Dora send their love, I expect they shall write soon. Expect something interesting from them both, our Davy in particular.

I remain your ever-loving mother,

Marilla Cuthbert

PS

I shall send a few bits and bobs that did not make it into your trunk in due course, nothing terribly amazing; merely a few hints of home, should you want them.


	2. Chapter 2

30 September 1890

Four WInds Point

Dearest Marilla,

I am ashamed it has taken me twelve days to answer your lovely letter. I know you will say that I had other things to attend to, and this is true, but how could I not carve out a few moments to write?

There is much keeping me busy. Having a home of my own is quite different from simply being helpful in the house of my parents. At Green Gables, I could go away for a time and return to find things unchanged- I was not essential to the running of the household. But here, if I should ever go away, even for a brief time, our life would deteriorate. It is _I_ who is charged with the upkeep of the place, and if I should neglect my tasks, everything would fall to ruin.

Speaking of ruin, our dinners are improving. I am embarrassed to say that our first dinner was rather charred. Gilbert didn’t say a word and he bravely ate the chicken anyway, but there was a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth that showed he was amused, though I felt awful. Since then, I have been quite a bit more attentive to my cooking. You once told me that I must not let my mind wander, because you wouldn’t be there to save my pies from burning. How right you were, Marilla- now that I have my own establishment as a wife- no longer a girl with a mother to watch over my tasks- I must be ever so much more responsible.

That is not to say it’s a burden. Cleaning house never feels like chore. It is a delight to look around and realize that this little home is _ours_\- our _own_, as if it is a cozy _nest_ we’ve built for ourselves! It is a joy to make it sparkle.

But no matter how much I love our house of dreams, the thought of Green Gables never fails to bring a tear to my eye. You said in your letter that it was not my home anymore, but how could that be true? It _is_ and will _always_ be. It was my first true home, and it will be my home forevermore. How glad I am to know that you _do_ understand my need to marry at home, with dear Green Gables as a witness to it all. I remember your surprise that I would not marry in the church, but the day could not have been made more holy by being inside four walls, Marilla, and under a roof! To wed among the fragrant blossoms, under the dome of heaven- oh, I never once doubted that He was right there in our midst.

Of course a home is not a home at all without the people in it. I would like to believe that Matthew was with us on that day. You might think it heathenish of me to hope he was hovering about instead of enjoying his eternal reward above, but I don’t see why God would begrudge him a day out, do you? Well, in any case, I’ll imagine he was there.

Unfortunately, as you wondered, I did very much feel as if most of the day passed in a blur. A very happy blur, but a blur nonetheless. I kept fretting over if I had talked to everyone, and if I had thanked everyone for coming, and if everyone was having a good time and if they’d all had enough to eat. It was only when I felt Gilbert pull at my elbow and murmur, “Anne, the day will go by fast, let’s put a pin in it so we can remember it later,” and it was just the advice I needed to hear: I took a breath, looked around, took it all in, and tried to make pictures in my mind of all that I saw before me so that I’d always have it to look back on. ...I did not quite remember Mary Maria being so contrary during the reception, but perhaps that’s a blessing.

You know, everyone kept saying I’d regret not going on a wedding trip, but I don’t think I’ll regret it a bit. It was so lovely to have our very first memories be in our own dear little house, not scattered about in strange places we’ll never again see. Gilbert did _indeed_ carry me over the threshold.

It gives me pleasure to know that Diana, the Allans, and the Echo Lodge folk were there with you after Gil and I left the reception. The only thing that could blight my happiness was thinking of you being lonesome. ...And now, dear Marilla, you must put to rest your guilt about how you responded to finding a waif at your doorstep. It was so long ago and so much has happened since: you have nurtured me like a mother bird keeping care over her fledgelings. We know perfectly well it was providence that brought us together, and all’s well that ends well, we’ll say. And I can’t imagine I made it very easy for you at first, being such a wild young thing.

Speaking of wild young things, I find myself a bit fearful- in a thoroughly amused sort of way- about whatever it is that Davy might wish to pass along to me? You calling it “interesting” speaks volumes.

As for the rest of what you’ve sent, “merely a few hints of home”, I am pleased as punch- the only thing that could make my house of dreams more beautiful is if there could be some way to fill it with memories of Green Gables, and by sending them, you have done so.

Your loving daughter,

Anne

P.S. You may tell Rachel that I agree wholeheartedly with _you_, Marilla, when you told her that my wedding night was none of her business! On that subject, I have something else to say. You mentioned in your letter that you felt a bit put out because Rachel was able to give me advice about certain topics, where you were unable due to your lack of experience in the matter. But you mustn’t feel in any way that Rachel has created a bond between us that _you_ do not share in. After all, I tell you _so_ many things that I would never, _ever_ tell Rachel Lynde! _You_ are my confidant, not Rachel, and I hope I don’t scandalize your good senses by saying that a wedding night can indeed be a pleasant thing, once you get over the initial shyness of being with each other in a brand new way. ...You know, it is a curious thing that people, once married, should just somehow _know_ what to do without it ever being openly _discussed_, but I suppose such knowledge can only be passed on from generation to generation in quiet whispers. And though Rachel may have over-shared, I am glad for her talk: I would have thought that the whole experience had to be painful had she not told me that discomfort is common at the start but quickly passes and things become nice after that. You will like this- Rachel told me that just like anything else in life, it is improved with lots of practice! ...And you may blush, Marilla, but she _winked_ upon the words _‘lots of practice’._


	3. Chapter 3

2 October 1890  
Green Gables  
Avonlea

Dear Anne

Now don't get worried dear, but Marilla had a small breakdown yesterday. The doctor says it's not uncommon after a big event. She just got a bit weep - well no I'll say it - hysterical at lunch yesterday. Davy dropped his drink and at the sound of the glass breaking Marilla cried out and burst into tears.

We called the doctor when we couldn't get her to calm down. He ordered bedrest and left us some powders. Poor Davy was quite distraught himself he hadn't wanted to upset her, it was an accident is all. I suspect Marilla will be vexed that I told you this Anne, you know how she hates to look vulnerable; but I thought you would want to know.

She's resting easy now. The doctor said she'd just been doing too much. That's certainly the case isn't it. All that work setting up the wedding, she's been pushing herself for so long. It's no wonder something had to give when the dust settled. Marilla should be up and about in a day or so, but I will make sure she looks after herself and doesn't take on too much. Between myself and Dora we should be able to manage. Though making Marilla rest, is as you know, no easy task. 

You'll be pleased to know that the twins behaved wonderfully. Dora is quite the nursemaid as you might expect and Davy has kept his war whoops to a minimum. No, I jest he does not whoop anymore. Davy I am surprised to say seems to be growing up. He is a dear boy; a more mischievous sprite I never thought I'd meet. He put my boys to shame with his antics. Marilla did so well with him, well and you did too I will admit. Yours was an unconventional family, but you all seem to be thriving.

I'll never forget the first time we met, Anne. You flew at me like a banshee. I was shocked of course and later I guess mortified. But you were right I was too judgemental and mean spirited which is something I usually pride myself on not being if that makes sense. I guess I was just shocked by the situation, I'd never regarded Marilla as a mother nor Matthew as a father come to think of it; not that that's any excuse. I was in the wrong, no two ways about it. If I never properly apologised, Anne I do so now unequivocally.

I'm right proud of the way you've turned out, Anne. You're a credit to Marilla and Matthew and to your own dear departed parents. I am sure you are having a wonderful time setting up your new house; please send us all a detailed description. I find it helps when I can picture where someone is living.

Tell us about your local church. Who is the minister? Does he deliver a good sermon, I find that helps when one is living in a new community. I do hope you have attended already and introduced yourself. Despite being busy, I do think that is important.

I hope all is well with you. I had planned all sorts of advice but as the daughter of the inestimable Marilla Cuthbert I am sure you know it all already and don't need an old fuddy duddy like me to tell you how to live your married life. I will just say that the key to a happy marriage is communication. If you recall your marriage vow to obey Gilbert you will find life far more settled.

With love and best wishes,

Your affectionate friend,

Rachel Lynde

*/*/*

4 October 1890  
Green Gables  
Avonlea

My Darling Anne

Never the most voluble man Matthew did usually at least listen to me when I spoke. After death I still spoke to him as I suppose you did too, but the conversation became even more one sided. Having you move away has been sad of course but with the arrival of your letter I realised a major difference. You will be responding to me! All this to say your letter arrived yesterday and I felt like a giddy child on Christmas Day for a letter from you is like a feast of the senses.

And your letter radiated joy, you sound so delighted with how your life is turning out and I can't help but feel so incredibly happy for you both. I guess I always knew in my heart of hearts that you and Gilbert were perfectly suited for one another and now I see how very true that was. You sound busy, I admit I did smile at Gilbert's reaction to your charred dinner but I will make no comment on it myself. You are an adult now, with your own home to run.

The letters continue to pour in from your wedding guests and their opinions are unequivocal, that no more Anne-ish wedding could have taken place anywhere else. You put your mark upon your nuptials as you do with anything else you touch.

We are all well. Davy has decided that this will be his last year of school. He wants to take on an apprenticeship with Mr Harrison and learn to be a farmer. I can't fault that, after all I am one myself as was Matthew and our father before him. Davy comes from good farming stock and I must admit it does my heart good to know that Green Gables will be cared for in the future. Just think I nearly sold it those years ago, thank goodness that did not come to pass. Life has a way of sorting itself out doesn't it? God knows best.

Dora has been busy redecorating your, I mean her bedroom. I fear it will always be your bedroom in my mind, just as the room Davy sleeps in now will forever be Matthew's room even after all these years. In any case Dora has filled it with the trinkets she kept in her old room and together we are making some new curtains. We took a trip to Carmody together the other day and picked out some lovely material to use. I think it will look very fine when we are done. Rachel made her a new tobacco leaf quilt and it looks very sweet laid out over the bed.

Somehow without my noticing it those twins are growing up. It shouldn't be a surprise, but somehow in my mind's eye I still picture them as the two blond ragamuffins who first arrived, as I do with you. I get a little shock when I see them in the morning they aren't those little children anymore.

We are hosting the Ladies Aid; you'll have a local chapter, I guess. You must tell me all about them. I suppose like here you will have an interesting bunch of folks; some nice, some eccentric. Rachel and I were thinking about it this morning and she told me to tell you to behave yourself with strangers. Goodness, I think she's forgotten that you are a woman now, no longer the little girl who yells that she hates you if you call her hair red. I'll never forget the dressing down you gave her that day Anne. Did I ever tell you how you made me laugh? Rachel had never seen anything like it and I think it did her good, though I couldn't have told you that back then.

Your postscript brought a tear to my eye, and I love you for it. Sometimes I get a bit self indulgent and ridiculous. Of course I know you and I have a stronger bond than you will ever have with Rachel. I shall strive to remember that henceforth and not get bogged down in maudlin thoughts about my inadequacy.

I will write again soon and fill you in on all the old goings on here in little Avonlea. Once upon a time I was mostly ignorant, but living with Rachel has cured me of that. I'm never really sure quite how she attains the knowledge she does, but she has her ways that is for sure and certain.

All my love my darling,  
Your affectionate mother,

Marilla Cuthbert


	4. Chapter 4

4 October 1890

Four Winds Point

Rachel,

Thank you so much for writing to inform me. I am beside myself with worry. Despite you saying it was “small”, I can’t help but think Marilla being “hysterical” over anything is in no way small. Gilbert is stuck by the side of a patient who is surely near death, and he cannot leave him of course, but I must come with or without him, so without him it will be. Don’t tell Marilla, she’ll fret over me traveling alone. I will leave tomorrow morning.

* * *

4 October 1890 

Four Winds Point 

Rachel,

I said I was leaving but it was only later this afternoon I received a letter from Marilla...she appears to be much better, from her writing, but then she wouldn’t tell me, would she, if she felt unwell? 

It does help me to rest a bit easier to know that you are there. I feel just terrible about how much she did for the wedding...I think in my daze of bliss, I perhaps did not fully realize how much she was extending herself. I am so regretful. ...I know that she herself will not tell me it was too much, but I am glad to know I can depend on  _ you  _ to tell me the truth of her condition. Please tell me right away whenever you think I should go to her.

Davy and Dora being good during her bad spell is a relief. You just never know where Davy is concerned! He doesn’t  _ mean  _ to be bad, I don’t believe, and I am sympathetic to his plight of being well-intentioned but making poor choices. But when it comes to Marilla, I worry his antics will tire her.

O Rachel! I flew at you like a banshee! How I laughed to read that description in your letter. I suppose I ought not laugh, for it was terribly rude of me to have spoken to a perfect stranger that way, but I am fortunate that it is something we can laugh about now. You needn’t apologize, it I who should. If I had a little girl who spoke to a lady in such a way, I’d be mortified. To know you think I turned out nicely is a compliment from someone who met me when I was at my very worst.

As for my house, you say you want it described, but no description could do it justice. You must visit before long. The sunlight streaming through the windows in the morning looks to me just like the doorway to a fairy land, and from the outside our dear little house looks positively enchanted. It  _ is  _ enchanted, really, with how much we love it. For more practical matters, you once said you could judge a housewife by her breadbox and you will find mine suitable, I’m sure. Do write and tell me when you can come, and I will make my very sparest of spare rooms ready for you.

When you visit, you will of course meet our minister and see our church and the townsfolk. We’ve made friends already and they are an entertaining crew to be sure. I am  _ still  _ working on making friends with one of our neighbors, a Mrs. Moore, who has no middle ground but is either always at darkness or light. My favorite person thus far is a man we call Captain Jim. He is a lovely fellow, and makes me think of Matthew. Which doesn’t make a bit of sense, as Captain Jim is talkative, but they both have the same sort of warmth, and I know I’ve found a kindred spirit.

Love,

Anne

* * *

4 October 1890

Four Winds Point

Dear Marilla,

Oh, how I miss you. We  _ must  _ come visit. I know we’ve only been away a short time, but don’t try to convince me not to. I want you to visit us too, but perhaps we should come there first? 

Gilbert is by the side of a man who may not live through the night. I could never be a doctor. To nurse one through pain is a beautiful thing, but to be tasked with these delicate end-of-life matters would be so burdensome. I went to him, thinking perhaps I could tempt him to eat a bit, but he would not. It makes me have so much more respect for him, to see him worry and tire but remain steadfast in his duty despite it.

So Dora is changing my room! It warms my heart that you will continue to think of it as my room. I won’t say so to Dora, as she deserves to have a place for herself, but in my mind the little gable room will forever be my own. I am not surprised by Davy’s decision. That boy was never meant to sit quietly in a school room. He was meant to be in the great outdoors, active and tiring himself out! I am sure he will be an excellent farmer, as he _can_ focus on something when he _wants_ to.

...I do hope you will not tire yourself, Marilla. I worry about you so. You know, I have written to ask Rachel to come and visit- why don’t you and Rachel come together? You wouldn’t be traveling alone; it would be most ideal. And you could meet all our neighbors and new friends, our minister and see our church. 

I am keeping this letter short, and ending it with a stern expression to _ get some rest!  _ I want you well enough to visit so you may see our town! What do you think, should we come visit you first, or would you like to come to us first? I do not want you to take the trip here if it would tire you.

With all my love,

Your Anne

* * *

5 October 1890 

Four Winds Point 

Dear Rachel,

In my haste to write, worried over Marilla, I neglected to thank you for your very  _ kind  _ advice. I quite agree that communication is key! And I do _indeed_ recall my marriage vow to be obedient. In fact, it was just the other day that Gilbert gave me some firm instruction; he said:

_ 'Anne, you mustn’t become one of those insufferable wives who just nods along with everything her husband says whether she agrees with him or not. There would be nothing more dreary to me than an Anne who has no voice, no viewpoint, no will of her own! Keep being your true self, darling, don't ever feel you must conform to me.'  _

SO, remembering  _ your  _ advice, Rachel- keeping in mind that I should obey my husband- I didn’t argue with Gilbert a bit when he told me that. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that I intend to do  _ exactly  _ as he wanted.

Very affectionately yours, 

Anne 


	5. Chapter 5

8 October 1890  
Green Gables  
Avonlea

Darling,

Anne you did make me laugh. Rachel read your letter and came to me pouting, you completely blindsided her with your response. I smiled at her and reminded her that the two of you were never what they might call traditional and asked her if she always obeyed Thomas to which she huffed and bustled off. It's good to see someone bring her down a peg on occasion, she needs it; and you managed it in such a sweet fashion.

But I am cross with Rachel now, I told her not to tell you about my little turn. It wasn't worth troubling you over. It was just I hadn't had much sleep lately what with one thing and another and I don't know, Davy's glass was the straw that broke the camels back as it were. Once I started crying I found myself unable to stop. She over reacted as she often does and called the doctor, completely unnecessarily. Now I mostly just feel embarrassed about it and of course it was an unexpected expense. I promise I am quite well now, darling. Rachel is keeping a watchful eye on me, even to the point of being quite forceful in making me have a lie down in the afternoon or sending me to bed mid evening. I find it a little exasperating, but I suppose she has my best interests at heart. Dora is very helpful with the housework these days and dare I say it is more attentive than some.

I bumped into Ella Blythe at the store the other day and we filled each other in on your news. As you might imagine Gilbert is too busy to write often; you might drop your mother-in-law a note now and again, I am sure she would love to keep up to date. Your description of Gilbert's dedication to his new profession was profound, it is quite wonderful to hear of his work. I know that I would feel safe were he or someone like him to tend to me in my last hours. Though I pray to God that will not be needed for quite some years yet; I want to meet some grandchildren one day.

You two will establish quite a community around you as you always have. You have such a knack for that my darling. One I've never quite had the skill for. I skulk up the end of the lane away from the town but you are never happier than when you surround yourself with people. It is something I have always admired. Tell me if you manage to get acquainted with this Mrs Moore, there's never been anyone you failed to get on your side, except perhaps Josie Pye. Still remember how long it took Katherine Brooks to come around. Just be gentle with Mrs Moore and I'm sure you will be friends before too long. 

Thank you for your kind offer but I will leave a visit until Spring I think and let you get properly settled in.

Your loving mother

Marilla

P.S. I forgot to report last time that Davy wanted to know why it took you so long to reply to my letter. When I said you might be busy he retorted, "I hope they weren't smooching all the time." Sometimes I think he's growing and other times not so much.


	6. Chapter 6

11 October 1890

Four Winds

Oh Marilla-

The thought of Rachel coming to you blindsided and pouting over what I said to her made me laugh like a schoolgirl! How terribly wicked of me to get a chuckle out of aggravating her!

I admit I _was_ going to add even more- I was going to say something along the lines of, “Rachel, if Gilbert and I ever disagree on some matter, and after discussing it, we realize there is just no compromise to be had, I will recall how you so _quietly_ and _sweetly_ let _Thomas_ take the lead…”

But I could not, because I laughed so hard my pen shook and dripped, and that is why there were inky blots there on that paper. Don’t let Rachel know. Anyway, I ought not be so unkind. Never mind how much it makes me laugh.

Truly, I should be grateful to her, for how much she looks after you- you don’t take as good care of yourself as you ought! You are always doing for _others_, Marilla. Which is who you are, of course, and I love you for it, but you deserve to rest a spell.

I am also very grateful for dear Dora. As for Davy, you may tell him there is quite a bit of smooching around this place! ...So you think you might visit in the spring, you say? That would be an excellent time. Though I’d rather see you sooner than later.

Do you think Rachel might come and visit us along with you? I would feel safer if you have a companion.

Oh! Let me tell you about Mrs. Moore. Well, the little I know. Her name is Leslie. She lives in a gray house just up the brook from us. She is truly the most angelically beautiful creature, something ethereal, you almost can’t believe she is from this earth. Her hair is a golden halo and her eyes are the clearest blue and her skin is milky white, though her hands are workworn. She is _so_ young looking, I thought she must have married as a child, and she _did_, Marilla, she was just sixteen- it made me try to imagine being married at sixteen and I was quite unable to! I surely wouldn’t have made anyone a decent wife at sixteen! Anyway, it seems too young to really _know_ yourself yet, and if you don’t know _yourself_, how can you be sure you are tying yourself to the person who would be right for you? I thought she must have found love very early to have married so young, but I wonder if her marriage is a happy one because according to others she is downtrodden nearly all the time. I can’t get at why, not yet. I felt foolish upon meeting her, oh, Marilla- don’t tell a soul but I was dancing upon the shoreline with abandon when I came upon her. I felt so terribly embarrassed, but this feeling was my own, for she did not embarrass me a bit, and I’m glad for that, at least.

Miss Cornelia is coming over tomorrow and I wonder if I might get at Leslie’s story from her? We shall see. I must go for now. I need to go make a purchase of new fabric. I intend to do a lot of sewing henceforth.

With all my love,

Your Anne

P.S. This may sound silly, but how are the chickens and cows? I miss them as dearly as if they were people, Marilla.


	7. Chapter 7

20 October 1890

Green Gables  
Avonlea

Darling Anne

Blessed child the animals are all well. I expect the chickens will go off the lay at some point, but for now they're producing well enough. I promise I will wander down to the barn after I have posted this letter and send them all your regards.

I think it was wise to leave your teasing of Rachel just where you did, she might have a conniption if you went further and the point was well made as it was.

How is dear Gilbert? I hope he is settling down into the work and that his patients are getting used to their young doctor. They are so lucky to have such a well trained up to the minute physician.

My, Mrs Moore sounds like a sad creature, what an interesting story. It just goes to show you that beauty does not necessarily equal happiness. Something younger you might have had difficulty believing.

Now Anne dear, I must tell you that Davy tells me that several boys are beginning to take an interest in Dora. Remember the Take Notice board at school? Apparently she has received a few notes herself. I suppose it should come as no surprise. Though I suppose I should not say it, she is quite a beauty don't you think? Davy reports that Ralph Andrews and the youngest Gillis boy have left her notes and even Milty is somewhat interested much to Davy's disgust.

Our Davy has not quite matured to that extent for which I give thanks. In any case we are keeping a close eye on Dora. The twins will be turning 17 soon and are growing up I guess.

Ella Blythe said to send her thanks to you, I saw her at church and she said she had very much enjoyed your chatty letter. I find it odd to have this new relationship with her. It's not as though I have always avoided her, but now with our children married to each other our bonds are tighter than ever before.

Sometimes I reflect on my ever growing family. Once it merely consisted of Matthew and myself and now I have you and Gilbert and his parents and the twins and Rachel. Hopefully one day you and Gilbert will expand the family even wider.

Do you need new dresses? Rachel and I would be happy to oblige.

I look forward to hearing from you soon.

I remain your ever loving mother,

Marilla


	8. Chapter 8

22 October 1890

Four Winds

Dearest Marilla,

I believed I had other news to tell you, but it has all left my head. Before you become alarmed, rest assured everything is well. In fact, things are so much more than merely well.

My dream has been realized. My secret hope, my innermost longing, my cherished, oft-repeated prayer. And now I can picture you admonishing, "Yes, yes, Anne, _come to the point!"_ ...Marilla, _if_ all is as it seems, you may consider yourself a grandmother.

I had a suspicion for a while, but I didn't like to mention it when I couldn't tell for sure- for _sure_\- if that's what it was. But all the signs were there. Don't worry over my health, I am fine as fine can be. The nausea will not keep me down and the heartburn cannot make me any less joyful.

Gilbert has been worrying over me as if I was the very first woman to ever be with child. But far from bothersome, I find it heartwarming, the way he fusses over me. Eventually I may find it less so. 

It is the strangest thing, to think that I am not only carrying my own child but carrying Gilbert's as well- the little one is a mix of us both- he is ours TOGETHER. How strange a thing- but how miraculous a thing! When I think of myself, an orphan from infancy, knowing so very little about my natural parents, it fills me with the desire to give a baby an inheritance not of money but of _information_. This child will know who he is from the moment he makes his way into the world. He will know his family's background, and he will know all of our _stories_. He will be able to point to the people behind him and think, _These are the people that made me who I am._ ...How blessed I am, Marilla, to have you as one of those people. What shall we tell the little one to call you?

You know, I say "he", as one does, but it very well may be a girlie. I can't tell. I haven't had "feelings" about that yet, as some women say they do. Gilbert says he has no preference, and I can't tell if that is true or if he is just saying that because it isn't as if we can expect one or the other. I don't know if I have a preference, either. I would be tickled pink to have a charming little fellow that is just like my Gilbert. But then a darling girlie may be just as lovely, to have locks of hair to curl and pretty dresses to sew. 

In one of my previous letters you may have taken note that I was buying new fabric because I intended to do a lot of sewing henceforth. Now you know why. I know it is probably bad luck to begin clothes before I even knew for sure. And I can hear you, right now, Marilla, as you tell me we do not live by luck but by providence. I could not help myself and began the loveliest little robin's egg blue gown. 

I know you will wish to tell your bosom friend and I won't deny you that. I know you'd keep it a secret if I asked you to, and I love you for that, but how could I ask anyone to keep such news hidden in their heart? I want to shout it from the rooftops myself. 

My life feels full in a way that it didn't before. I thought I had it all, fortunate as I was to find love with Gilbert at long last. But now I see that what made me happy before was just a glimpse of happiness- this is the _real_ thing.

Oh, Marilla-- I cannot _wait_ for spring!

Your loving daughter,

Anne-

P.S. Please tell me what Rachel says to my news. Please tell me what _everyone_ says to my news! My enthusiasm cannot be contained. 


	9. Chapter 9

Green Gables  
Avonlea

24 October 1890

My goodness Anne,

We received your letter today, what wonderful news darling, now you are really embarking on a new adventure. How I long to wrap your blessed self in my arms and feel the new life growing within.

Rachel naturally knows ALL about it so you can expect a long missive from her, for she is full of advice. I don't know if she ever told you, but she had ten children herself.

I was as you predicted reading the letter impatiently, so I laughed when you acknowledged it but then I cried, yes real tears of joy when I read those blessed words. Me A Grandmother! There was a time, a very long time when I thought this would never happen to me. But now all my dreams have come true, it is as if the old hurts and woes were worth it, now that a Cuthbert/Blythe baby is on the way.

Dora found me sitting in the parlour, stuck I am afraid on the news unable to move on. She sat by my knees and plucked the letter from my fingers asking if I needed assistance. It was she who read the rest of the letter out to me Anne, dear Dora is such a comfort. She was such a meek child, but she is finally finding her voice. At the conclusion we sat and smiled at each other and hugged.

And you may well imagine Davy's response. He let out a whoop as loud as ever he did as a boy. He's excited to be an uncle. I am in shock at the thought of it - Uncle Davy. Uncle Davy! He feels the weight of responsibility and walks around with a new sense of pride with his chest puffed out telling us how he will be the perfect role model to his nephew. I shudder to think… (though we did remind him that she may be his niece).

Thank you for giving me permission to share the news with Rachel. We would have kept it quiet if you asked, but I admit it would not have been an easy task. My joyous grin would have given me away, that is for sure and certain. You know how Rachel is at ferreting out news, keeping this secret from her would have been quite the challenge.

Now all your cryptic notes make perfect sense, no wonder you are purchasing new material. But never fear Dora, Rachel and I are certainly more than happy to help. This will be one well-dressed baby and I expect you will need larger dresses yourself before too long. I do not believe we are tempting fate you must be prepared in advance Anne and will need something to wear as will the baby. Like you I do not care whether it is a grandson or daughter each would be equally joyful, and of course it is in God's hands now.

I have heard that it is considered wise to limit the amount of milk you consume, that way the baby's bones will be softer, and childbirth will be easier. I do worry about you Anne darling you are so slight, and Gilbert is a fine figure of a man; your baby may be big boned himself and you may struggle when the time comes. Additionally, they recommend ceasing consumption of pickles lest the baby has a sour disposition. Though I cannot believe any baby of yours Anne could be anything but perfectly sweet natured like his mother. You had your moments my gorgeous girl, but mean spirited never.

I hope you are keeping well it can be a trying time I'm told. Rachel said the worst thing was the crushing exhaustion, but I worried that you might be unwell. Heart-burn and illness is no joke. I am sure Gilbert is keeping a very good watch on you; it is a great comfort to me to know that you are married to a physician. What better hands could you be in? It is sweet that you find his solicitous nature so helpful at this time. I hope you will always feel the same way. Now I find myself speculating what he or she will look like. Will they have your gorgeous red locks or Gilbert's curls? I know which you would prefer, but your luscious titian hair would delight Gilbert and I to no end.

Rachel is knitting the first of many booties on the couch behind me and keeps calling out advice to send to you. She recommends you eat nourishing foods, but not too much. And to make sure you stay modest by continuing to wear your corset, I suppose that's necessary isn't it. Although I expect it will be uncomfortable or impracticable as the baby grows. Additionally she points out that it is beneficial to avoid lifting your arms above your head lest the cord strangle the baby. Expect more or a repetition of this advice in her own letter, for this is but a summary of her many words. 

I promise I will share everyone's reactions as they occur, but I couldn't wait I had to write back as soon as I could to share our excitement with you both. Give our fondest love to Gilbert, he must be so excited too.

And so to Spring, which I will look forward to more keenly than ever.

Your beloved mother and soon to be grandmother!

Marilla Cuthbert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I didn't make up any of Marilla or Rachel's advice, it was the sort of thing expectant mothers were told to do in the late 1800s.


	10. Chapter 10

Four Winds

28 October 1890

Marilla, 

I miss you so. I miss you even more now that I have such a delightful thing happening, it makes me want you by my side every minute. I am so glad Davy and Dora are with you, since I cannot be. It touched my heart that the news caused such emotion.  
I am not surprised that Rachel has a plethora of advice. I expected it. What with those ten children, she is quite the expert. And I say that now only half-jokingly, because I cannot imagine enduring this ten times, and I have not even delivered yet! While the discomfort and nausea cannot take away my bliss, it certainly is a lot to contend with; it puts me right out of commission some mornings. 

What I long for most is to be able to feel the darling little creature move for the first time, to delight in those kicks and to know that she is in my womb dancing with joy! Oh, I wrote she, didn’t I? I have been wondering whether we will have a lad or a lassie and I admit I have begun to have a feeing that our baby is in fact a she, Marilla- but perhaps this is only because I am hoping? I would love to have dresses and pretty hair to fuss over. ...Most babies are born bald, so it will be very exciting to me to watch her get older and have her gorgeous tresses come in, to see if it grows in red like mine or brown like my Gil’s!

I have been heeding nearly all advice given to me, no matter how bizarre it seems. Gilbert has his medical opinion that much of it is hogwash, and I suspect he is right- for example, eating pickles causes a sour disposition. But why not follow it, in case there is merit to it? I’d do anything to keep my dear little one safe! Though Gilbert has forbidden me from wearing a corset henceforth, saying he’s seen alarming studies that show that corsets are not healthful when a baby is due. It does seem odd to be without one, though I make no complaint- it certainly makes one feel lighter and less constricted! However, the relief will be short lived, as I am sure I will feel heavier and more constricted as we go on, corset or no corset! 

Now I must tell you what I have learned about Mrs. Moore. It is a tragical tale. She began at a disadvantage already with the mother and father she had, but her brother, whom she adored, was killed when he was just eight years old by a wagon wheel. The poor little mite fell from the wagon and the hired hand rolled right over him, not seeing that he’d fallen. The most terrible part of all of this is that Leslie watched the whole thing happen! Miss Cornelia, who knows all, told me that Leslie would not let go of the child’s dead body and he had to be ripped from her clinging arms. She was only twelve years old herself. I cried, Marilla, thinking about it. 

Now if that wasn’t enough to mark one’s life with sadness, Mrs. Moore had many other terrible things to endure. Her father hanged himself-- and the poor girl was the one who found him. Oh, can you imagine? Fourteen years old and already witnessing two gruesome deaths!

The story of how Leslie West became Leslie Moore is no less tragic. Her husband, Dick Moore, obtained his wife through pure blackmail. His father owned the mortgage on the West farm. When he wanted Leslie- for no one could equal her beauty, I’ll have you know- he told Leslie’s mother that he’d foreclose on her farm. You wouldn’t think a mother would be willing to make her daughter a sacrificial lamb, would you? But that’s exactly what Mrs. West did. Leslie was guilted into agreeing to a marriage at just sixteen. 

It wasn’t a year later that Leslie’s mother was dead and the poor dear was more alone than ever. Saying she was alone while she was married sounds backward, but I am sure she felt very alone. Dick Moore, I was told, was an extremely unkind man. Miss Cornelia told me that he was all about possession- he only cared about something when he wanted it, and once he had it he no longer cared about it. He was the type to use someone and then to throw them away. Leslie was beautiful, young, and vulnerable, and she was all his. My Gilbert considers my feelings and cares for me so tenderly, and I can only imagine- though I don’t want to- the violation she must have felt with such a callous man. I shudder to think of it. 

And then, before she knew it, she was truly alone, because he got a fancy to go on a voyage with his cousin to Havana. I would imagine Leslie was relieved not to have to live with such a cold, unfeeling man. When he never returned, it could have been counted as a blessing, but wouldn’t you know, Captain Jim found him in Havana and brought him back...but Marilla, he was gone in the head by that time! He’d had some sort of accident and did not even know who he was. Now Leslie must care for a man who is no more than an infant. 

I suspect very strongly that she would rather have him in that state than in the state he left her with, but either way, it’s a burden she must bear. She doesn’t even attend church, Marilla- how could she, he can’t sit through a service without acting as a child would. And she can’t have children, not with this sort of life, though I’m not sure she’d want them with Dick Moore anyway. 

She went to Queens, you know. No, I didn’t know her- she was there before me, she is twenty-eight now. She did the two year program in one year and made herself a teacher. She didn’t have a career, really, marrying at sixteen, but that year at Queens must have been the bright spot in her life! She lives on very little now, her sole income being the farm she rents out and an occasional boarder; of course she cannot teach in a school because she is married. If she could resume teaching, I’m sure it would broaden her world, give her a feeling of accomplishment, as well as an income, but one can’t be a wife and a teacher.  
Speaking of teaching, I was asked by many at the wedding if I would miss teaching, and I do miss it in many ways- though I can’t say I miss geometry!- and at first I wondered why a woman cannot have both, but now that I am to be a mother (a Mother! the name brings a smile to my lips!) I can’t honestly say I long to be back in front of the blackboard. I am far too interested in my lovely home and caring for my darling child, and I would not wish to leave them even for a moment, no matter how enjoyable and fulfilling teaching was to me. 

But I do wish Leslie could have the fulfillment of teaching since she will not get any elsewhere! Marilla, isn’t her story simply awful? Miss Cornelia told me that Leslie is so very standoffish due to her past and that I mustn’t let her cold demeanor stop me, because underneath it all she truly does want to have friendship. So that is my goal, Marilla- I am intent on being her friend, no matter how much she may push at me. And now I’ll ask you to help me in this endeavor by keeping poor Leslie in your prayers. 

I have depressed myself in re-telling poor Leslie’s story. Gilbert has cautioned me to try to have my surroundings be pleasant and to avoid melancholy as far as possible, as it isn’t good for me in my condition- or for the baby- to have been stirred to great emotion. So in brighter, happier style, please do tell me something lovely and newsy- have you told a great many people of your impending grandmotherhood? 

I wondered what sort of name you would most like to hear from our darling little one's mouth when they shout in jubilation that YOU have arrived for a visit. I assumed grandmother to be perfectly appropriate, but I shall leave it to you to decide, because you might be particular about it- do you remember how I longed to think of you as my 'Aunt Marilla' when I was a child new to Green Gables? And you wouldn’t allow me to call you Aunt, even though I begged you. I don’t mind you not being my Aunt now, dearest of Marillas, for I think of you as a mother...but that long ago wish came to mind the other day and reminded me that I have yet to hear from you on what you desire to be known as. 

Your most affectionate daughter,  
Anne


	11. Chapter 11

Green Gables  
Avonlea

5 November 1890

Dearest Anne

Ella Blythe paid me a call, Gilbert had naturally shared your joyous news with his parents too. We hugged each other tightly. If ever we thought we were bonded by your marriage, know that that bond is ten times as strong now that we are to be joint grandmothers. Naturally she is rushing off to town too to buy material for dresses for you and the baby. Davy is impatient to meet the baby immediately; he was quite crestfallen when we told him that it is a process and that he wouldn't be meeting the baby until next year. Rachel's experience is coming to the fore once again as she explains it to the children.

Now darling I hope you are keeping well and looking after yourself. Please don't exert yourself over much, especially when you feel unwell. Rachel reports it can be a difficult time, but that it does mean the baby is healthy. I hope that brings you some comfort. I am sure I can trust Gilbert to keep an eye on you, though I am not sure I agree with him regarding corsetry. A woman does not look altogether proper when she does not wear one. Though I suppose it would be more comfortable and after all yours and the baby's health is the most important thing, I guess. Between him and our wonderful Rachel's inexhaustible wealth of experience, I am comforted that you are in good hands. I admit I wept at the thought of the blessed baby dancing in your womb. I too long to share this time with you. I am not sure if I can bear to wait until spring to see you again Anne, I am just so excited. Not surprised naturally, but giddy yes giddy with anticipation and I suppose if I'm being completely honest a little worried too. Childbirth is a dangerous time for mother and babe even with the best medical knowledge available to us in these modern times. I believe that the combination of Gilbert's knowledge and our prayers will give you the best possible chance, but still I worry.

I too have been considering the question of what your children should call me. While Grandma is perhaps considered conventional, you know I've never been one to follow tradition. You recall the time I invited you to call me Marilla and you pressed me to allow you to call me Aunt. I look back at that time with a little bit of guilt actually. Rather than being cheeky, I see now that you were trying desperately hard to create a family, and that by calling me Aunt it would almost seem as though we were kin. When I rebuffed you, you took it remarkably well but now I find I have a chance to redeem myself. While I will not technically be your children's grandmother, I can be their honorary aunt and so I think they should call me Aunt Marilla which makes us seem like family and harks back to that earlier time. What do you think?

It occurs to me that in calling this a Blythe/Cuthbert baby, I am rather ignoring your own dear parents who after all loved you so very much; they did not leave you by choice. I suppose I should refer to this blessed baby as the Blythe/Shirley baby instead. Blythe/Shirley/Cuthbert is rather cumbersome and not completely correct either. Regardless of how we name it, we all know that this will be a thoroughly loved and adored child. While I am talking about names, I suppose you two are considering the most important of all, ergo what to name the baby. Rachel has been speculating, throwing names out apropos of nothing at the oddest moments as they occur to her, but I am sure you two have it all in hand.

I've been reflecting on how special this baby will be for you Anne. You of course have no memory of your own parents and missed out on a childhood yourself. Something I perversely feel guilty about, even though objectively I know it wasn't my fault. Now you have the chance to provide your child with as perfect a childhood as you know how; indeed the childhood you deserved but of which you were criminally deprived. I wonder if you worry that with your own background you may not be up to the task? If that is the case Anne, please put your mind at rest, for I have every belief that you will be a simply splendid mother. You will share your love of nature, literature and your marvellous story telling abilities to weave a web of romance around your children and as a result I expect they will enjoy a wonderful childhood. You and Gilbert will help them grow into fine upstanding, honourable people. I pray I get to know them all.

As you might imagine the whole of Avonlea knows that you are expecting now. News always travels at speed around a small town like this; all the more so when Rachel has a hand in it. The reaction has been mostly positive. Mrs Pye speculated that yours might be an unusual looking baby, but hoped that it would take on more of Gilbert's looks than your own. What a cheek, I admit to you alone that I was tempted to slap her, but of course I kept my hands by my side though it took all my fortitude to do so. I did tell her in no uncertain terms that I pray every night for a titian haired bairn, that it might be quite as beautiful as you. Apart from her forked tongue everyone has been most kind. I did feel terribly sorry for Mrs Gillis, she drew me away from the crowd after church to wish us all the best and to send her love to you. Poor woman, she should be enjoying Ruby's children by now. I think it must be terribly difficult for her to see Ruby's peers married and bearing children, while her previously vivacious and gorgeous daughter languishes in a cold dark grave.

Goodness, your Mrs Moore has had a difficult life. How ghastly to be married to someone through blackmail and then for him to return a cretin. No wonder she looks so upset when you spy her. Make sure to be very gentle once you get acquainted. I knew someone like her once, she could be moody at times; she had her good days and her bad. I had to learn that her moods had nothing to do with me and not to take umbrage if she flew off the handle, so to speak. I recommend you do the same.

Stay well and safe and look after yourself my darling girl

Your loving mother and soon to be grandmother,

Marilla


	12. Chapter 12

Four WInds

1 November 1890

Dear Marilla,

I received a letter from Gilbert’s mother the other day. She mentioned to me that she’d been chatting with you often. At the end of her letter, she wrote, _To share this precious grandbaby, we have an unbreakable bond of love._ ...It made me so happy, Marilla.

She has indeed been sewing. She has written to me of the lovely garments she’s been working on for the baby, and one for me as well. She told me of all the PINK she is using, which made wonder if she is aware that our little darling may be a redhead? I shall hope for a little head of dark ringlets more than ever.

I have always loved pink; it’s such a shame I could never wear it. I have been reading mother’s magazines, and a recent article on the colors of children’s clothing was of interest to me. In dressing infants, it said, white, yellow, cream, blue, pink, and violet are best to use as they give off a fresh appearance. I quite agree with that part of it- pastels always make me think of lovely things like ruffles, desserts, and of course, babies. But the author also spoke of how some people are beginning to dress their little boys and girls differently from each other. Blue, it said, was best for girls because it is a peaceful, calm hue that suits the serene nature of the female, while pink was said to be best for little boys because pink denotes a rambunctious, fiery spirit such as a little boy will have.

It seemed odd, to me, to choose a color that should be used only for a certain sex. I suppose I will ignore what may be trending and stick to tradition in using any lovely color for our baby, no matter what its sex may be. But as I seem destined to be the recipient of many pink ensembles, I shall hope only that we do not have a redhead!

Gilbert and I have more mouths to feed, and our baby isn’t here yet. A pair of kittens placed themselves on our back doorstep, meowing and whining as pitifully as ever has been heard. Miss Cornelia was with me- Gilbert had gone out on a call- and she and I raced to the back door when we heard it.

My heart was in my throat, Marilla, because it sounded just like an infant. I was already imagining some poor young girl running off into the starless, inky night after desperately placing her baby on someone’s doorstep- and me having to explain to Gilbert when he arrived home that a baby came sooner than we expected. I don’t know what we would have done, but I was overcome with relief when I saw that it was not an abandoned baby but two small, frightened kittens instead. Miss Cornelia and I searched the yard and the road and on down to the harbor, hoping we would locate the mother, but were unable to. Perhaps she abandoned them, perhaps she died and they wandered about until they found a house with a lamp lit and the aromas of a late dinner wafting out of the windows.

They are not brand new, which is a blessing, at least, for I wouldn’t know how to feed a newborn kitten and it would frighten me so. Miss Cornelia says they’re probably around eight or ten weeks old. After we got them in and dried off- for it had been raining- we gave them each a saucer of water to drink and set down a plate of leftover salmon from dinner, and they demonstrated for us how terribly hungry they had been.

As I write, they are playing with each other, running and chasing and tumbling about in the garden. They are such darling little things, though they don’t look like siblings at all. One is black and white, looking like a little penguin from the South Pole. The other is completely orange. When Gilbert came home he first asked if I thought it would be a good idea to have two kittens in the house when a baby comes. I said well we can’t put them out, not when they need us so. He kissed me and told me I had a tender heart, and that of course we wouldn’t put them out.

We have named the little penguin ‘Magellan’ after the explorer to the South Pole, and the marmalade one shall of course be ‘Marmalade’- though we’re already calling him ‘Marmie’ for short. Don’t tell Rachel Lynde, or I shall be bombarded with old wives’ tales about how cats steal baby’s breath.

Leslie Moore visited this afternoon. She nearly came apart when she saw the kittens and she took them up in her arms so lovingly that I almost didn’t feel right to keep them. I thought perhaps she’d like them- she has so little in life. But she told me she’d enjoy visiting them here, but could not take them home herself because Mr. Moore may harm them unintentionally- he isn’t aware of his own strength, being a grown man with the mind of a child, and if he squeezed them he might very well squeeze the life out of them. So that is one more thing taken from Leslie, and she returned home without them. I feel awfully mean, sometimes, Marilla, having so much when she has so little.

Gilbert is making himself popular. People trust him with all their aches and pains, not only of the body but of the spirit as well, and he cares for them as dearly as if they were his own kin. We’re going to have a happy life here, I know. And it is interesting to me how revered I seem to be, being the doctor’s wife. Our new housekeeper calls me young Mrs. Doctor. It amuses me but makes me proud as well. I am proud to be wed to such a good man.

I do hope you will like her when you meet her- our housekeeper, that is. Susan Baker has been with us only a few days. Gilbert insisted I needed help now with a baby on the way. And when he knew that Susan, who was a spinster, was getting on in years, he thought perhaps she would like to be hired on, as she’d have income for herself as well as company.

Marilla, I didn’t bat an eye at your “Cuthbert/Blythe” baby mention. This will be a Cuthbert/Blythe baby, as well as being a Shirley. Why should we all not join in on giving this baby a background? Inherited traits will come from the Shirley side, but influence in life from the Cuthberts. Your wish to be called _Aunt_ made me smile. You have indeed redeemed yourself, dearest Marilla!

Oh, “a titian haired bairn, that it might be quite as beautiful as you”! Marilla you make my heart sing! I shall never feel plain again, hearing such a thing. And how I laughed to read that you had a temptation to slap Mrs. Pye! Do not fear, I won’t tell a soul. I shall laugh about it all on my own.

Oh, but Mrs. Gillis…Ruby is always with her, isn’t she? I knew that Mrs. Gillis must be heartbroken, of course, but it did not occur to me that each new phase of life will tear her wound open again. Now she must stand by, as her departed daughter’s friends marry and have children of their own...every new baby is salt in the cut. How dreadful for her. And of course she will watch it all with a sweet smile, never pulling other’s joy into her sorrow. I cannot imagine going through such an event, or being able to remain positive after it. I shall pray for her without ceasing, Marilla, and I know you’ll do the same.

On a happier note, it tickled me to think of Rachel popping off with names at random moments. Do tell, I’d love to know some of the names she thinks will suit our baby. We have a great many names we like, our list seems to be growing longer when we really mean to be narrowing it down! Everyone has told me not to tell the baby’s name in advance; they say those around you will tell you all of the reasons you shouldn’t give a child that name, but if you wait until after it’s been born and christened, they can’t say a thing.

But in the case of you and I, I know that you wouldn’t tell me a name I liked was foolish. Perhaps you’d think it. But I shall tell you anyway. For a little girl, we have so many names I can’t write them all. Just a few are Evelyn, Rose, and Marie. Felicity has also been in my mind, I love the springy sound of it and it would be perfectly appropriate as it means _happiness_. No, I have not suggested Cordelia to Gilbert. Not being a foolish little girl any longer, I have put my romantic pseudonym aside. Well, that is what I’ll say publicly- in truth I am pleased as punch that Diana gave me my own little Anne Cordelia. And for a boy we thought of calling him after Matthew, as Matthew has gone on to his eternal reward and we want to do something in remembrance of him.

Marilla, your words about what kind of mother you thought I’d be brought tears to my eyes. You know, all the praise in the world, from a thousand other souls, fades in comparison to one word from you. I love you so.

-your Anne


	13. Chapter 13

7 November 1890

Anne, darling

I paid a visit to Ella Blythe to fill her in on all your news. I feel a bit guilty about Ella really. I never had much to do with her in the past, but she is a very nice lady as I’m sure you know. One of the unexpected benefits of your marriage to Gilbert is that we have really gotten to know each other. I would say again, except I never did know her all that well in the first place. I suppose I can confess to you that I was jealous. It is a sinful thing to admit, but it is true. Once upon a time I had hoped to be in her place, married to John. We know that did not transpire, but it was not her fault; it had nothing to do with her. Yet I admit I did harbour some resentment. 

It has been a source of joy to me that I was finally able to let go of the kernel of anger that resided within my breast for so long. It is something I have prayed on over the years but never quite been able to overcome. As joint parents to such a happy couple and now impending grandparents I find that resentment has completely disappeared, and I can just enjoy her company for its own sake. 

We had a lovely afternoon reminiscing about your old exploits. Some of which were news for her and some to me. For instance, she never knew that Gilbert rescued you from the sinking flat on the Lake of Shining Waters. For my part I never knew Gilbert was made to wear a bonnet at Redmond, I can just picture an odd curl escaping its pins. We sat and had a good old laugh about your antics, what a pair you were for getting into mischief. 

Ella is sewing the most beautiful nightgowns for the baby. Her needlecraft is exemplary. I believe she will send some along soon and I am sure you will be absolutely delighted. As you say she has bought a great deal of pink fabric, I am sure it will look gorgeous on what-ever hair coloured baby you have. 

Now tell me how Gilbert is faring? He must be as giddy as a schoolboy. Tell me what he is like. He must be so excited to be a father, and won’t he be a marvellous one. How is he caring for you, I don’t mean medically for you have told me that already; but how is he tending to you as a husband should? I expect he is as tender and loving as ever, perhaps more so. 

I am so pleased Gilbert has employed this Mrs Baker to help. You will be busy enough as is once the baby comes and even before that you will need her as the baby grows. With her help you now have the space to work and meet your neighbours and thoroughly enjoy life without being weighed down with housework. Personally, I always rather enjoyed it, but then I was never burdened with infants. Really, I don’t know how Rachel managed it all those years. 

Davy confided in me that now Ralph Andrews is showing some interest in Dora, he has placed numerous notes on the Take Notice board at school. Davy is unimpressed. He loves his sister and only wants the best for her, but he does not understand how his peers could be interested in his sister of all people. No girl has caught his eye yet, and he is mystified that his friends seem to be maturing into young men while he is still essentially a boy. I suppose he will catch up soon enough and will tell us all about the first girl to catch his eye. I wonder who it will be? We are in for an interesting time that is for sure and certain. 

Dora now spends many hours up in her room fixing her hair, trying on ribbons and dresses. I hear her up there giggling with Minnie May or her other girlfriends. It makes me so joyful to hear them. I fancy their talk is all about boys these days rather than dolls. Rachel warns me that I had better look out for Dora who we are agreed is much the most beautiful girl in her year. Not that I would ever tell her that, she is vain enough as it is. But, well you know Dora, Anne she is quite stunning. Still I don’t think I’ll take to sitting on the doorstep shotgun in hand quite yet. 

Your comments about poor Mrs Gillis brought a tear to my eye. For naturally she would remember every milestone. I have noticed dear Rachel grows quiet on her Katherine’s anniversary and that was nigh on 50 years ago. A mother never forgets, they say.

Fancy you acquiring two kittens though on reflection it doesn’t surprise me at all. Dora is very keen to meet them and went so far as to ask for some herself. You can imagine my response; if Dora wants to get a cat she can wait until she has her own floors to mop. As you predicted Rachel did remark about them stealing the baby’s breath, but I hushed her. Davy remarked that their names sound very extinguished which made the rest of us smile while he looked on bewildered. 

Well that’s all our news, I think. Write soon and tell us how you are faring, I pray your morning sickness subsides soon. Rachel says it usually improves as the pregnancy continues. 

All my love my gorgeous girl,  
Your loving mother,  
Marilla


	14. Chapter 14

21 November 1890

Four WInds

Dear Marilla,

Your admittance of jealousy quite surprised me. Not that you were jealous of Ella Blythe- I think that is perfectly understandable- but what surprised me is that you felt sinful over it. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You went all those years not letting anyone feel your unhappiness, never bitter or unkind to the Blythes. It is a testament to your character that you were able to feel what you felt without letting your feelings disrupt the joy of others. It burdens me so to think of my dear Marilla unhappy. No one less deserves unhappiness. I am joyful that you can find true friendship now. 

Your talking that way- about wishing you had been Mrs. Blythe instead- made me imagine a different world in which you had. You’d have been a wonderful mother, you know. But you wouldn’t have been a mother to Gilbert of course; he’d not have existed in that imagined time. I would have existed, though. I wonder what would have become of that fiery, freckled wench? Perhaps a laundress or a scullery maid, I’d imagine. With no education, and no one to look after my future, I doubt I’d have accomplished much of anything. Unlikely to marry as well, I assume- though if I had, I’d have married much younger, I’m sure, no college work to slow me down. Maybe just eighteen and a wife with a whole gaggle of babies by now, all hungry and poorly dressed! I’d have enjoyed them far less, I think, rather than eagerly anticipating the little one I have now. 

Speaking of little souls charged to us for safekeeping, our kittens are well. They growing rapidly and Susan says they will soon eat us out of house and home. It is amusing, their antics. Well- most of their antics. Not all! Marmie brought us a gift the other day, a sleek gray mouse. Susan got rid of it before I saw it, but the secret came out when Magellan followed in his brother’s footsteps only hours later. When Gilbert learned of this, he thought we ought to give the kittens away, as things like little animals being crucified would upset me at my most delicate time. I protested that giving away our kittens would do worse damage. They really are the most sweet looking little things, despite their nature to kill. It saddens me that by the time you visit, they’ll have grown up!

I wish they could stay at their tiny size forever! I mentioned that to Miss Cornelia the other day and she said that if I felt that way about the kittens, it will be far worse when our baby is born- that I’ll want to keep our sweetheart a tiny one forever and seeing the baby growing and changing will be distressing. I don’t see how that could be. Oh, yes, I see that it could be bittersweet- they don’t stay little for long- but I think that the absolute joy of seeing your new baby is to look forward to all the thrilling things they will do in the years to come!

I received the nightgown you spoke of. The needlework is exemplary. My own little garments, made with such love, pale in comparison!  
It amused me greatly to think of the two of you reminiscing over Gilbert and I and our exploits! Was it really so long ago? It feels like just yesterday. My, we were a matched set, weren’t we. I can’t believe it took me all those long years to see it!

Gilbert is dearer to me than ever! I thought initially that I might grow tired of his fussing over me in my time of confinement, but I have not. ...I suppose I needn’t really refer to it as my time of confinement, must I? I still attend church and I take frequent walks along the shoreline. I must stay away from the rocks, of course, and I don’t venture up to see Captain Jim anymore, Gilbert thinks the walk is too high up and anyway Captain Jim has begin to come down to us instead. I feel rather unattractive to be honest, and I’m sure it will only grow worse, but Gilbert still tells me every day how beautiful I am. He won’t let me lift a finger, and I think part of why Susan is employed is so he has a way to see to it that I don’t lift a finger while he’s away on calls, either. 

I feel quite spoiled, having a housekeeper. I never expected to have one...I always thought I’d be much more likely to be a housekeeper than to have a housekeeper. My, what a different life I have, because of you, dear Marilla. College-educated, with a teaching license and a principalship under my belt- and now a lovely home as the wife of a respected doctor. 

Miss Cornelia says I’m one of those women who will look lovelier still the larger I get- that being expecting has “done wonders” for me. ...I am not sure whether I ought to be touched or insulted, as the way she said it was a bit of a backhanded compliment. I don’t believe she meant it that way, so I won’t be upset over it. I have learned, since I was that hot tempered child, that it is better to look at one’s intentions before flying into a frenzy over their speech.

O my! Ralph Andrews, you say? I forgot all about the old take notice board! What does Dora think of Ralph? It sounds from your description of her that she is more interested in looking her best for attention overall, rather than trying to grab the eye of any specific boy. 

It makes me happy that you have Dora and that Mrs. Barry has Minnie May, and that the two are fast friends-- it makes me feel as though the two of you have your Anne and Diana again! Though hopefully they won’t get into near as many scrapes we got up to.

I also say, with a sigh, that I am glad you have Davy, too. He livens up the place, doesn’t he. Davy calling little Marmalade and Magellan “extinguished” made me laugh right out loud.

I have lost all traces of morning sickness, I must say before I forget. I know you have been worrying over me. There will be other challenges coming up, I’m sure, but I already know all will be forgotten once the treasured Springtime is upon us! 

It occured to me, Marilla, that the impending arrival of the baby might make you miss Matthew all the more. I know I do...I so wish that he could be here to meet our baby and to delight in it all. He would have loved this little one with all his quiet strength. 

If you are thinking of Matthew these days, do write to me about him. Don’t feel that your musings will bring me sorrow, for knowing that you and I share his memory between us brings me comfort. 

James Matthew is the name we’ve chosen for our little one, if it is to be a boy. I’d prefer, in all honesty, for Matthew to be first, before James, but the fact of the matter is that Captain Jim is alive with us and Matthew is not- calling out for James will not bring a tear to my eye the way calling out for Matthew would. Yes, it is better that Matthew be his middle name; there to honor him but not ever-present to cause tears.

I’m sure I’ve made you wonder, now, what we would call a little girl. I admit we are still lost on the matter. I wrote to you before of Evelyn and Marie, but we’ve decided against them. Rose is still on the table; I rather like her being called after a flower! Felicity is still under consideration too, though it seems an awfully long word for happiness...perhaps Joy. That denotes happiness too, but a greater kind. It occurred to me just this very moment, but now I hear Gilbert at the door. I’ll see what he thinks of it.  
Love to you, dearest Marilla  
Your Anne


	15. Chapter 15

1 December 1890  
Green Gables  
Avonlea

Dear Anne,

First off, the children said to say hello to the kittens. They must be amusing to have about the place, though their gifts sound quite distressing if I am being honest. Why cats feel they have to honour us this way I will never understand. 

I’m sitting here writing at the kitchen table while the Christmas pudding steams away. The basin is gently knocking against the pot and the house is a waft with its spiced aroma. I’m a bit late I know, I’ve been a mite busy lately what with one thing and another - still better late than never. It’s cold snowy day, so it’s good to sit in the warm kitchen while it cooks. Davy hung around longer than usual, breathing in deep breaths in a suggestive manner hoping for a tid-bit I dare say. Eventually he left empty handed, as if I would give him anything now. Still I suppose I have to give him full marks for trying. 

The making of it always reminds me of Matthew, he did like a nice pudding. He always said it was so jolly on a dark Christmas evening when the blue flame danced over the top. I can picture his look of supreme contentment when he took his first mouthful. Then there’s the anticipation when you might get the nickel in your serving. One year I forgot, do you recall? Davy was most put out. I still smile when I remember his disappointed expression. 

I suppose Mrs Baker has already made the pudding. This will be your first Christmas together as husband and wife. What are you planning to do? You are both more than welcome to come here if you wish, we would love to see you. I long to wrap my arms around you my girl, but I understand if you would rather be alone; though it will not seem like Christmas without you.

Like you, remembrances of my dear brother pop unbidden into my mind at the oddest moments. It is comforting to think that he creeps into your mind too Anne and that we can share those memories with fondness. 

I will not say I hope you have a boy, for a baby of either gender would be equally marvellous but a wee James Matthew about the place would indeed be lovely, and I can well understand your reasoning upon using Matthew for the lad’s second name instead of his first. As to girls’ names, I am sure the right one will occur to you in due course. 

It makes me so happy to hear about how well Gilbert is faring with his work. How satisfying it must be for him to be putting into practice all that he has learnt over those long years. I have said before, but I think it bears repeating how comforted I would feel were I to have someone as dedicated and skilful as Gilbert administering to me in my decline.

Speaking of which, old Silas Sloane went to meet his maker a few days ago. I never had much to do with him but as you may expect the entire clan is in mourning. One can hardly move in town without bumping into one member of the tribe or another loudly lamenting their loss. You would think he was the first man to die by the fuss they are making. Rachel mused that they just love the drama and attention and while it is a sad event, I have to admit she does have a point. I believe his funeral will be held tomorrow. I am not planning to attend. I fancy it will be a noisy affair and the church will be packed out enough in any case. They are a queer bunch. Is there an equivalent family over there in Glen St Mary? 

Small towns are odd places, you know. People just fetch up at a spot and settle down and make friends and before you know it, you’re a local and you must muddle along as best you can with folks you might rather not know. All you have in common is a shared geography. 

You made me think that the good Lord knew what he was about all along. How could I ever doubt Him? Of course, if I had married John Blythe as I meant to, yours and Gilbert’s life would have been unimaginable, inconceivable even, in the truest sense of the word. As you say your own might have been a sorrowful tale. I suppose it was providence really, though I did not recognise it at the time. 

I never really thought about in all his years, and we seldom discussed it, but I suppose Matthew always longed to be a father. When providence brought you to us, he was determined not to let you go easily. Certainly, I had never seen him act quite so assertively. Dear girl, I read your sweet words thanking me for bringing you up though I admit I thought fiddlesticks! You put me on a pedestal like a saint and I do not deserve it. If anyone should be applauded for saving you from that less fortunate fate, it should be Matthew. That dear kind man spared you more than I can ever claim. At the time I said something like what good would a girl be to us and he said we could be good for her. Sometimes I pride myself on being a good Christian, but in his own quiet way he put me to shame. 

I pray that your good health continues for the next few months and that all is well.

I remain  
Your loving mother,  
Marilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My collaborator is not a fan of puddings, poor thing. But I hope she can stay in character enough to write back about it. Marilla is quite late in the cooking of it this year. By rights she should have started it in early fall.


	16. Chapter 16

Four Winds Point

Dear Marilla,

Won’t you come for Christmas? I did so want to come home for Christmas- you know I can never think of Green Gables as anything but home!- BUT Gilbert and I do want our first Christmas together to be in our little nest. It will put one more sweet memory in our dear house of dreams; we are collecting them like pearls on a string.

I know Mrs. Lynde will likely be obliged to attend Christmas at one of her own children’s, but please tell her she is most welcome to come along with you and join us. It would make me feel safer if you were to have a traveling companion. Whether or not she comes, I expect Davy and Dora will be with you, so I needn’t worry too much.

Reading about your Christmas pudding makes my mouth water! Now you really must come! I smiled upon your recollection of Matthew and enjoyment of Christmas pudding- the ‘dark Christmas evening when the blue flame danced over the top’, Marilla you must begin a memory book. If not for you, then for this little one who is to come. I am very much in favor of memory books now, as I am looking for someone who can write one for Captain Jim. Before you suggest that I may do it, I will explain that my flowery speech is in no way suitable for the story of Captain Jim. My forte has always been the fanciful- I want to make things pretty! But Captain Jim's story is one that must be told in a very different way, and is not in my power of gifts. I wrote to Paul, but he will be out of the country for two years to study. "When I return I'll come to Four Winds, dear Teacher," he wrote to me. But I am afraid that two years may be too long. I shall continue the search. I have prayed on it and believe that God has already appointed the person meant to write it, and I have simply yet to discover them.

The passing of Silas Sloane did not come as a great surprise, my goodness the aged man was blessed to have lived so long. I can perfectly imagine the Sloane family and their dramatics in his departure from this life. There is a family in these parts called van Sicklen that very much reminds me of the Sloanes. While I have not yet had an interaction with a van Sicklen, Gilbert has and has said that the sheer dramatics they give when one of them has a simple head-cold is astounding. He told me he has not yet met one who didn’t find value in being the center of attention, and he is quite sure he has been called to come check ailments that don’t exist.

As I ended my last letter, I’d thought up the name Joy only moments before Gilbert returned home from a call. I must update you that he agrees with me, the name is perfection. We’ve decided her real name ought to be Joyce, it’s refined and proper and she may prefer it when she is grown, but we plan to always call our little girl Joy, as that is what she will be to us. I feel great satisfaction to know we’ve settled on names for a boy and a girl, and now we must only wait to find out which we will be blessed with!

In other preparation news, I feel I’ve done all I need to do at the moment for the dear creature- you should see the lovely wardrobe I’ve got, Marilla. There will be no better dressed baby on the Island. My favorite so far is what Leslie made- you must see it when you come, you will be in awe. It is so tiny it should be just right as the very first thing this dear baby wears, for the baby will quickly outgrow it. That isn’t the only reason it should be the first thing the little one wears, just as good a reason is that it looks quite right for a little soul straight out of heaven- it is pure white and filmy, like the baby has come down to us through the ether! It is made of the finest material- much more than Leslie should have spent, she is so dreadfully poor!- the sleeves and neck are made of lace of real Valenciennes. Beyond the expensive material and the lace and frills, I could see her exquisite workmanship. Leslie truly is gifted, her tucking and stitching is professional and I must show you her embroidery on the front of the gown, as no description could do it justice.

Please write to me with the news that you WILL come to us for Christmas, Marilla. If you send word you can’t, I shall pretend I never received it, and will expect you to come regardless.

Your Anne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you read in the previous chapter endnotes, my collaborator IS a fan of puddings, and is actively recruiting me to join her in her pudding acceptance. She has even offered to share her Christmas pudding with me. I promised her that if I ate her Christmas pudding, I would pretend to enjoy it. Her response was that I wouldn’t need to pretend, because it is delicious. The pudding battle continues.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short jump in time with this letter as I expect the previous letters were about the mundanities of train timetables etc.

10 January 1891  
Green Gables  
Avonlea

Dearest Anne 

Just a short note to say thank you for having us all to stay. It was so good to see you both my darling. You are looking wonderful with that glow that you hear tell about. It was probably my imagination, but I fancy the baby grew even while we were there. At least you seemed a mite plumper when we departed. 

I admit I had wondered how you and Gilbert would settle as a married couple. I have heard it from you of course and known you through your engagement but there is nothing quite like the easy familiarity of a young couple very much in love and relishing each other’s company. 

I shouldn’t say it, I hate to be maudlin and selfish, but it did remind me of what was denied me. I never did enjoy all those flirty moments with my true love. And it was too painful to witness when Rachel and Thomas wed all those years ago; back then it was too raw, and I stayed away from them for a while. Only now with the benefit of the passing years can I enjoy it. Not that being an old maid is the worst thing that can befall a woman. We did wonder Matthew and I, if you would ever find true love and we hoped against all hope that you would. You were always destined to be cherished beyond all measure my girl and I am so happy that it came to pass.

Meeting Mrs Moore reminds me that mine was not the worst fate, far better to be unwed than locked in marriage to a violent simpleton. I do not say these things to upset you, Anne dear, but it just reminds me how fickle fate may be. The Lord moves in mysterious ways does he not. I a mere sinner cannot begin to comprehend His plan. Which makes your story particularly heart warming. After your difficult start it pleases me to no end to witness you and Gilbert fitting together so well. It was just wonderful to see you two finishing each other’s sentences, joking, teasing, laughing, hugging and loving. Just as on your wedding day you always had a sixth sense when he was near and kept him in sight even if it was out the corner of your eye. You imperceptibly shrank when he went out to visit a patient and lit up again when he returned. It makes me so very happy Anne to see you this way. It is the way Anne Blythe should be. I suppose an independent woman such as myself shouldn’t say it, but he completes you. 

You were so set against him all those years remember, you barely let his name pass your lips. Don’t think we didn’t hear how often you would start a sentence with ** ‘Gil-a boy’**, I pretended not to notice, but I did my darling and I loved you for it. Truth will out in the end, if you love someone so deeply it is best to act upon it eventually. Not that I blame you for taking so long. You had precious little experience of a loving marriage. I fancy you were petrified of undertaking such an endeavour before you were truly ready. But as you embark upon the next phase of your life, I believe you will have a marvellous time in partnership together as husband & wife and parents too of course. 

Wasn’t Christmas lovely. Not having to cook the goose myself was a novelty and one I think I could almost get used to. Please tell Mrs Baker that she did quite as fine a job with the goose as ever I could. Then later crammed into your cosy parlour playing charades was a delightful way to end the evening. I thought Gilbert did a very fine impression of a bullfrog, but Dora’s moose stole the show; I don’t think I’ve laughed so much in years. 

Your little House of Dreams is so perfect for you my darling, and together you have transformed the dear little cottage into your new home. I have missed you so, but it will be easier now being able to picture you there as you go about your day.

I hope you will apologise to Mrs Moore about Davy’s behaviour, he tearfully told me later and I suppose he told you too, that he was quite struck dumb by her beauty. She is indeed an ethereal creature, quite as lovely as you described. I admit I was shocked when our Davy refused to speak to her. Davy! of all people. She was so kind to Dora too, please thank her for that. 

Dear old Green Gables was as beautiful as ever when returned. Of course, the hearth was cold, and we had to run an errand to town to stock up on a few essentials on the way home, but it was easy enough to manage. As delightful as it was to visit you in your sweet little house Anne, there is nothing quite like coming home. If I had known how much I would enjoy a homecoming, I would have left more often. 

Well I promised you a short note and I see that I was wrong and in fact had much to impart. I do enjoy getting my thoughts down on paper, I hope you do not mind reading them. 

I pray your good health continues, 

I remain your ever-loving mother,  
Marilla


	18. Chapter 18

March 17, 1891

Dear Marilla,

I love the seashore. I tried to imagine living in a bustling, noisy city and I couldn’t quite picture it. Or perhaps I couldn’t only because I didn’t really want to.  
City life provides glittering excitement, but the seashore calms my restless spirit in a way no other place this side of heaven can. 

Gilbert says I must stop my wanderings, just for now. This grieves me as I get so much out of walking the rocky shore. But he is alarmed about my growing condition. He said, “Anne, I must insist, not as your husband but as your physician.” ...oh, suppose I can try to enjoy the waves splashing along the rocks and the gulls crying overhead, without being right out in it! Gilbert looked at me and said, “I can’t stand to see the corners of your mouth turn down, darling, smile for me please- just think of all the sunny afternoons the three of us can have along that same shore, in the time to come.” — the three of us, Marilla! It has such a lovely sound, doesn’t it? ...And IN THE TIME TO COME. It is so lovely to KNOW that the future holds such dear things!!!

Though Captain Jim still has no author to pen his life story. I honestly have a feeling that the appointed one is coming soon.  
I’m kept from loneliness by him. Miss Cornelia and our Susan, as well. Everyone must come to us, though, as I can’t be allowed to walk steep paths anymore.

Gilbert’s practice is doing just fine, no outbreaks or epidemics here. We’ve heard the influenza has come to Charlottetown, that isn’t far, Marilla, and you must be careful. I’ve heard it spreads like wildfire once it starts. 

What I wrote doesn’t seem enough to send— I’ll pick this up again tomorrow. I’ve been a bit bored, but perhaps something will happen. You never do know what is around the bend in the road.

Well, I’m glad I didn’t send yet. I’m feeling a bit melancholy today and needed the comfort of a mother. How fortunate I am to have one, now.  
Leslie’s been very cold to me and I do so want her to be a friend. Miss Cornelia told me I must be her friend whether she’ll let me or not. It surely isn’t easy.  
Leslie seems so very bitter! She is a beautiful creature, otherworldly, ethereal. But there’s a coldness to her I can’t penetrate. I couldn’t imagine why until last evening I was relaying my very frustrated feelings to Miss Cornelia and she looked at me with enormous eyes and said, “Why, Anne, don’t you understand you’re leading a charmed life while she feels just pitiful! And she’s too proud to let anyone know it. She’s jealous of you, it’s plain as day.”  
I just stared at her in wide-eyed shock. Me? Someone jealous of me? I AM frightfully happy. My marriage to Gilbert and now our soon-to-be bundle of joy have made my life more beautiful than I ever dreamed it could be. But my life’s been FAR from rosy! Leslie has no idea of my childhood. If she had, she’d see that she and I need not be separated by bitterness!  
Do you think, Marilla, that if I relayed some of my tale of woe to her, that it might help to wither away some of the thorny hedge that divides us?  
All my love,  
Anne


	19. Chapter 19

March 24 1891  
Green Gables  
Avonlea

Dearest Anne

It must be a blow to you I am sure that Gilbert has forbade you to visit the beach but it is a profound relief for me. As I recall those paths are treacherous and I worry should you fall and not be found for hours. I am certain Gilbert feels the same way every time he goes out on a call. You must for his peace of mind and mine obey his instructions, Anne. As he says soon enough this time will be behind you and you will have the pleasure of introducing your baby to the foreshore. How marvellous will that be. I can picture you pouring the fine white sand over tickly toes and gently splashing water over a fat belly.

Wrapped in my warmest shawl I took a walk down our beach on your behalf yesterday. The gulls were calling overhead and above them white fluffy clouds against the bright blue sky promised warmer weather to come. I did not tarry though. Spring may be on the way but the wind was chilly. I tried to see you and your bairn paddling in the water on a warm day, but my poor imagination struggled in the cold wind. I am sure any child of yours dear Anne will share your love of nature and will effortlessly conjure such flights of fancy, but it was beyond my prosaic talent.

Anne I must admit that I felt a warm glow when you said needed the comfort of a mother. I recall an afternoon shortly after you arrived at Green Gables, we were walking home and I felt the warm glow of maternity when you slipped your hand in mine. With that simple gesture you unwittingly broke open the armour I had built about myself over the years.

I do not say that to provoke pity, but it is true that I have had to fortify myself against the vicissitudes of life. Folks have always murmured cruel asides when I walked past as though an old maid was tainted somewhat and I found it easier to harden my heart to them lest I break down in tears as I nearly did the first time it happened. Meeting Mrs Moore for the first time brought me to the realisation that life could have been far harder than it had been though at the time it was no bed of roses. Misfortune can take so many guises.

By all means share your story with her. Although we have never spoken in length about it ourselves, I knew by reading between the lines that your life before you came to Green Gables had been hard. You knew things a girl your age should not. I don't mean bad things, but you knew just how to calm Mrs Blewett's fractious child and only you could have saved poor Minnie May that awful winter's night. And yet despite that knowledge you were innocent in other ways. That is to say you were wise beyond your years in some matters and behind in others. At the time I thought you were a heathen when I had to teach you to pray, but it came to me later that the reason you did not know God's love was that it had never been bestowed upon you. It was for that reason alone that you were ignorant, not out of wickedness or at least not on your part.

My regret is that I was an undemonstrative mother, though I hope you understood later that I prefer to express my love with deeds rather than words. You were safe, well fed, clothed and educated under our roof. Still I suppose it is just as well you had Matthew to provide what I found difficult, namely warmth. Between the two of us, we seem to have muddled along all right, despite Rachel's misgivings. Of course much of that is down to you, dear Anne you have such a optimistic bent to you character; some children would have been beaten down by the situation you found yourself in but you did not and I have always admired you for it.

Write me how you get on with Mrs Moore. I pray that you will find in her a kindred spirit as I know how comforting that bond can be. You have such a knack for that Anne and if Mrs Moore is a tougher nut to crack, think of your burgeoning friendship as a challenge rather than insurmountable obstacle.

I have not yet told you anything about life here in little Avonlea. We too have heard of influenza in Charlottetown and will take care to avoid it. No one is yet sick in Avonlea at present and that is a blessing to be sure. Winter was cold I must say and like you must be we are all heartily sick of the endless snow storms, though Davy seems happy enough. He is out in it every day from dawn to dusk building igloos, skating, sledding, flinging snowballs about.

Rachel has forbidden him to make snowballs here ever since the time one caught her on the back of her neck by mistake. Davy was most apologetic, he claimed it was done in error. Poor Rachel she said she could feel the icy snow dripping under her chemise and had to go in to change. I admit to you I was laughing fit to bust on the inside Anne but I had to maintain a stern face to Davy. That boy does amuse me so. Dora is well she spends hours up in her bedroom these days pinning her hair into new styles. She is blossoming into a beautiful young woman. Rachel says we might have to sit on the porch with a shotgun one of these days. I pray it does not come to that.

We read with dismay of the Springfield Mining Disaster what a terrible fate for those poor men, fancy dying in the dark like that. It does not bear thinking about. The Ladies Aid decided to run a fundraiser for their widows and we are all making clothes to send to their poor children. 

But this is unsuitable talk for a woman in your situation. On a happier note Davy brought me a large bouquet of mayflowers, I know how much you love them. I hope you have a good supply around abouts your wee house Anne. They are sitting in the blue vase on the sideboard and the house looks quite homey with them there. It was by your influence Anne that I allowed myself to enjoy Spring. For some ridiculous reason I used to think such feelings were akin to sinfulness, but you taught me otherwise. After all Spring is a working of the Lord is it not? Watching you revel in its splendour brought me to the realisation that it is not so wicked to enjoy it after all. Even my weary old heart finds itself lightened by the sight of bluebells in the woods or the gentle swirling shower of apple blossoms that festoon the White Way of Delight. Goodness you must be rubbing off on me, that sounds like an Anne sentence doesn't it.

I see someone riding by so I shall finish up here,

Sending you and Gilbert all our love,   
I remain your affectionate mother,  
Marilla Cuthbert


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: I edited this to say the baby will be born in June rather than April. Sorry for the mistake.

April 1, 1891  
Four Winds

Marilla,

Well when you end a letter by saying “I see someone riding by so I shall finish up here”, you cannot expect me not to ask you very first thing who they were and what they wanted!

I felt giddy as a schoolgirl reading the romantic leanings of your heart as you walked the shoreline and enjoyed the mayflowers of spring. I didn’t start something new in you, I only awakened what was there all along. Sometimes I wish you and I could have known each other as girls and shared our youth together. Even though I came to love you as a mother and I really wouldn’t choose to have it any other way, I also can’t help but think we would have been such chums! 

It is interesting you remembered that moment  
I slipped my hand into yours. I remember it well, for it was the very first time. We were on the way back from your sewing circle- no doubt you’d taken me along because you did not want to leave a stranger alone in your house- and who could blame you, orphans could come from any stock, vagrants and thieves and such! (I say this with a smile, Marilla, I know that Rachel regretted her words.) But OH, how I hoped you would keep me. I was fully prepared to love you and be the best little child anyone could ask for. As we walked along the path toward home- what I believed MUST be home- I felt the tranquil peace of your home all around me, a sort of peace and warmth I’d never felt in all my days, and I felt such longing to hang onto this place and never let go. The nearest thing to hang on to was you, and so I did. I remember your surprise when I took hold of your hand; the little jolt that ran through you. But you adjusted and we easily fell into step together. I didn’t JUST want someone to love ME; I wanted to have someone I could give all my love TO. And you were the rock to which I anchored my ship o’ dreams.

Speaking of a ship o’ dreams, I cannot believe that it is likely just eight weeks until we set sail on our voyage! I’m glad the little darling will arrive at the end of May or near the start of June- May and June both have such pretty sounds. My birth month of March sounds snappy and called to attention, but May and June sound to the ears like a party, full of laughter and mirth, blooming with possibilities! You promised to come to us and stay for a month, do you remember? 

My, I’m not surprised Davy had an errant snowball that just happened to land on the back of Rachel’s neck. What a shock to her, I hope she didn’t take ill from the cold. It is a blessing I was not there for Rachel would be less than understanding of my uncontainable laughter. How I miss sweet Dora. I can just imagine her up in my bedroom (in my mind it is forever my own) as she indulges her vanities by trying new hairstyles. ...The mirror in my room is certainly showing a prettier reflection since she moved in!

The Springfield Mining Disaster has weighed heavily on my mind, too, Marilla. Though you said it is unsuitable talk for a woman in my condition- and Gilbert agrees, for he has tried to shield me from news of great sadness- I heard of it nonetheless and want to do what I can to help...though there’s little I can do about anything at the moment! I spoke to Miss Cornelia and she agreed to take my pies to a bake sale they’re holding at the church on Saturday. I suppose at the moment that’s the best I can do. I’m afraid I can’t send clothes as all my sewing has been for the baby.

I have thought a great deal about your opinion on the Leslie Moore situation. I have decided to tell her what my childhood was like, more than I have ever told a single soul! I never felt it was worth dredging up, and I like imagining better than remembering. ...It would make me feel better if I could have practice by telling my dear Marilla first, but I understand if it would burden you to hear of it. It isn’t an easy tale, that’s for certain. 

Write to me and tell me when you’re coming, won’t you? You must come at least by June 1st, thought I’d like it better if you came around the middle of May. If you wait til June you chance missing the whole thing, and after Gilbert and myself I want you to be the very first face the child ever sees!

All my love,  
Your Anne


	21. Chapter 21

6 April 1891  
Green Gables  
Avonlea

My darling Anne,

I only meant someone had ridden by to take the mail into town for me. It was John Blythe as it happens, we exchanged pleasantries for a moment but he had to be on his way; it was really of no consequence. I just use whomever is riding past these days, it saves me the trouble of making a trip to town and means you get your letters more speedily. Trust you to think it was some excitement when really it was quite mundane.

It is a drear day, the rain is coming down in horizontal torrents outside and the clouds are hanging low but thankfully Davy has the woodbox well stacked and the house is warm and dry. Once upon a time I never thought I'd say this, but thank goodness for Davy he is a blessing of that I am sure and certain.

Mind you I say that and then I must add that he has been in trouble lately. That's nothing new I hear you say, our Davy? Why am I even commenting? Well if you look back at the date of your last missive you may have some inkling. Yes it was on April Fools Day that you wrote. As you may imagine there were some hijinks around here. I told Davy most sternly that after the snowball incident he may not prank Rachel and he looked downcast and said, 'no fear Marilla. I durnst go near her again.'

That night at dinner Davy was smirking like the Cheshire Cat but refused to say anything, Dora rolled her eyes but was quiet. It's the quiet ones you've got to watch though isn't it. When Davy emerged the next morning ready for a day of japes he was crammed into a tiny shirt and pants. The shirt was so small he could not do up the buttons and I am afraid to say the same had to be said for his trousers. "Davy?" we exclaimed. "Where are your clothes?" Honestly Anne you would have laughed fit to bust at the sight of his poor sad face. "Gone," he said sadly. "All gone. All I could find were some ashes in the fire." I baulked at that. No one could have burnt his entire wardrobe, surely no one in this household could be so cruel? And after all such a trick would not merely impact Davy but Rachel and myself who would have the job of quickly running up some new clothes for him, for he could hardly go about in the rags he had left.

You've probably guessed by now, yes it was Dora. She had crept in to Davy's room in the middle of the night, stolen all his clothes and hidden them under her bed then left an old rag smouldering in his fireplace. I didn't know what to say, but really considering all jokes Davy has played on her over the years and how she has borne the brunt all this time, I was inwardly pleased she got her own back for once, though I had to keep that quiet. After they had both gone to bed that night, Davy in all his clothes to save them from his wicked sister, Rachel and I had a good chortle over it. 'Davy won't take his sister for granted again, that's what,' said Rachel in her own inimitable fashion.

And Davy like the Davy of old has been asking Questions. I've had to turn to Rachel for assistance. Over dinner - why is it always over dinner? He asked what size your baby would be by now. 'Was it?' he asked. 'The size of a chicken or a calf?' Rachel went slightly green at the gills. Next he said he has been having sleepless nights worrying about your health after they cut the baby out. I do not want to lie to him, but equally this is women's business not a boy's. It seems Milty's sister is also in the family way and together they have been concocting all sorts of theories. You might think a farm boy would have a better idea but it has all gone over his head. At least he does not equate you with a cow, for which we should give thanks I suppose.

As to Mrs Moore I think that telling her your childhood stories is a capital idea, I would be honoured if you were to practice on me as sad as it must have been. Half the challenges I had bringing you up stemmed from the poor start you endured and which in hindsight we never addressed. In any case as you head into motherhood, perhaps it will be healthful for you to unburden yourself.

It makes me sad to think how much mothering you missed out on as a child. Without a doubt you received it in early infancy as I am sure your parents lavished love upon you for the scant months you lived together. It breaks my heart to think how it must have come to such an abrupt stop when they passed. Your mother in particular would have had such high hopes for your continued happiness. As you said you longed to bestow your love upon someone; that it took thirteen long years to find such unconventional parents as Matthew and myself was a terrible miscarriage of justice.

You were pretty wild when you first arrived Anne, but even then I realised that you were good at heart. I guess I was pretty tough on you, but I look at you now and I think I didn't do such a bad job bringing you up despite Rachel's misgivings; though the proof of the pudding will be in your grandchildren as they say. Still can I say I am reasonably confident that they will turn out all right, if that is not too presumptuous? It makes me smile to think that you recall that time we held hands, I don't think I'll ever forget it. It certainly was very sweet and may have been one moment in many in which I decided to keep you. I am thankful beyond words that I did.

I pray you are keeping well. Rachel tells me this is a happy time or was with her. When the illness is firmly in the past and your belly is swelling with the new life within. She supposes the baby is 'kicking up a storm' as she puts it. I long to see you and you may be assured I will be there by the middle of May. I'm pretty sure my old horsehair trunk is up in the attic somewhere. I'll send Davy up one day soon to hunt it out. I fancy it will need a good cleaning before it bears any of my dresses though.

I remain your beloved mother,

Marilla


	22. Chapter 22

15 April 1891

Four Winds

Dearest Marilla,

I write to you in anger and sorrow. Gilbert and I are at odds with each other. 

You know I have been telling you of poor Leslie Moore’s predicament, how her husband has the mind of a child due to an injury he sustained when he left her for a time. For twelve years she has taken care of him at great expense to her own health and happiness. If you recall, Leslie never wanted to marry him in the first place, only doing so because he threatened her family with financial ruin. Well, the news of late, is that Gilbert has found a possible solution to Mr. Moore’s condition of the mind. He came across it and felt duty bound to tell Leslie of the possibility.   
I TRIED to explain to Gilbert that Leslie was better off as Mr. Moore’s nursemaid than she was as his wife.   
But he said it would be dishonorable to withhold that kind of revelation from anyone when it could bring them back to living a full life. 

Marilla, I feel positively ill at the thought. Yes, Dick Moore ought to be able to be restored to his rightful self. But how can I want...no, how can Gilbert want...to do such a thing to Leslie? I told Gilbert that I know- I KNOW- how Leslie feels being this wretched brute’s wife! The abuse she must suffer breaks my heart. As a child I saw many a man do terrible things to the woman who had the misfortune to be under his control. I myself was a defenseless child in houses of drunken and unsavory characters. ...I hope that someday things will be different, but as it is now, a wife has very few rights in such a situation.   
As pitiful and lonely as Leslie’s life is now, her fate will be so much worse if Dick Moore is restored. ...Why can’t Gilbert understand this? Why can’t he leave well enough alone? He knows I am put out with him, for I have been quiet and feel resentful. He pled with me to understand why Dick Moore must be given his chance at life, but I DO understand- the trouble is, despite understanding, I vehemetly disagree and I feel I MUST take Leslie’s side, even if it means turning against Gilbert.

Later-  
Imagine my surprise when Leslie decided to take Dick for the surgery. She is a selfless person, that’s for sure. I was with her a short time ago and she said to me, “Anne, I could not fathom allowing it if it meant going back to being that man’s wife. But when I came home Dick ran to the door to greet me and had his simple, empty-headed grin, looking for all the world like a small child. He looks to me with such loyalty and trust. I felt that by not giving him the chance at restoration, I was denying a child the chance to grow up. I may regret it, but I must give him back his own mind, if at all possible.” 

So that’s that, then. Her mind is made up. Now we shall wait and see what is to happen.

I have nothing more to say, except that our flowers look lovely and make my heart swell with joy, though that joy is dampened when I remember that Gilbert and I have had our first disagreement of married life and I cannot give in to think he made the right decision, no matter what Leslie thinks.

Ever yours, 

Anne


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As has been pointed out, we made a bit of a mistake last letter. Gilbert did not suggest the procedure until later. Anne’s letter to Marilla would likely have been the same regardless, so we left the letter in.

20 April 1891  
Green Gables Avonlea

My darling Anne

I am so terribly sorry to hear that you two have been quarrelling. All young couples must have disagreements at some stage and I commend you that it has taken this long. You add that the situation is out of your hands as Mrs Moore has decided to go ahead with the treatment but as you still seem to be upset, I will do my best to put your mind at ease. 

While I have never been in your position, ergo quarrelling with my husband; I do believe it is not so terribly different to a disagreement with a good friend. As you know I have had my fair share of arguments with Rachel over the years, not least over the way she treated you that first time you met, but we do not let it affect our friendship. If anything, arguments are the sign of a healthy relationship; all couples disagree at times. 

Remember Anne, Gilbert trained for many years as a physician and he will be up to date with the most current cures for a man in Mr Moore’s position. It must be a terrible affliction for the poor gentleman and anything Gilbert can do to make his situation easier he must pursue, no matter the cost to Mrs Moore. 

If Mrs Moore’s situation deteriorates as a result of the procedure, I believe your focus should lie with supporting her. She has taken Gilbert’s advice and there is no point nursing resentment over past decisions, instead you should look to the future. I do hope you can move on Anne, do not let this sour your relationship for too long. 

In local news we all continue happily enough. Rachel went to visit her daughter the other day and has yet to return. I must admit I do miss her when she is away. Davy is a mite put out at the amount of attention Dora is garnering. The twins may not be as hard work as they once were, but they still keep me on my toes. In any event, I do miss having adult company. There is no doubt it is easier to manage the children when you can have a good laugh at their antics; they take themselves so seriously at this age. Sometimes when Dora speaks of her beaux, I am reminded of myself at that age and I try caution her not to be too cavalier with their affections. Not that I think she needs too much attention, but well it does not do to make enemies along the way. 

I bumped into Mrs Gillis the other day. Poor woman I never really know what to say to her, I feel rather guilty that my children are hale and hearty while sweet Ruby … well you know. I hardly liked to tell her your news for fear that it will upset her. But she sounded pleased and said to pass you her best wishes. 

I remain your beloved mother,   
Marilla Cuthbert


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the radio silence, life got in the way. Marilla will be writing the next few instalments.

30 May 1891

Dearest Anne

My luggage is nearly packed. I had Davy fetch down my black horsehair trunk from the garret last week where I do believe it has sat for nigh on fifty years. After we dusted off the cobwebs and dirt it looked, well, it looked old. Still it may not pass for new, but it will certainly do. I have been popping things in it ever since. Not that I have ever such a large wardrobe as you know, but well I do like to bring a few touches from home with me.

Rachel has been been busy baking and I have a new batch of red current wine with which to wet the baby's head. Davy and Dora have been sneaking in their own contributions as you may imagine. Dora has embroidered a beautiful piece for the nursery, though I'm not sure that the baby will want Davy's bug collection, or at least not quite yet. 

I am so looking forward to seeing you in your new state as it were. You were barely showing at Christmas and now I suspect you will be quite a sight to behold.

With all my love

Marilla

* * *

6 June 1891

Dearest Rachel, Davy and Dora

I've just escorted Anne on a short stroll around the garden. The poor girl was fairly going crazy at being separated from the fresh air, but currently is not up to long walks. We have to believe her confinement cannot be far off as she looks like she may pop at any time. 

She and Gilbert are so very happy and are making plans for what their near future might hold. It is a joy to behold. I share their enthusiasm and cannot wait to meet the wee one. I never really knew what all the fuss was about, but the prospect of becoming a grandmother is something I am relishing. 

Between us Gilbert and I are trying to make sure Anne gets plenty of rest, she will miss that soon enough I expect. It's not easy though, for she is so very excited and keeps calling out new ideas and plans. I'm sure you remember this time, Rachel. Particularly when its your first and there's no one else to care for. 

At odd moments I have just a wee niggle, but no I won't say anything; it's just my old pessimism raising it's head. 

I will write soon with good news I hope,

Love

Marilla

* * *

10 June 1891

Four Winds

Dearest Rachel, Davy and Dora,

After a long and arduous night I am delighted to announce that Joyce Blythe was born in the wee hours of the morning. She is perfect. Ten wee fingers and ten wee toes. She is quite white and bald. She has the most expressive bright blue eyes that gaze up at us as though she's been here before and is just reacquainting herself. Anne reports she was happy before but that was just a faint precursor to her elation now. Although exhausted she fairly glows.

I see someone outside so I'll just send this off and write more later,

With love

Marilla Cuthbert


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written with the assistance of **OriginalMcFishie**, thank you my friend for providing Rachel's distinctive voice.

5 June 1891  
Green Gables

Dear Marilla,

I cannot believe that after all our years of friendship (it would be indelicate to say how many years) I'm writing you a letter, rather than popping in for a chat. As I always say, you never stop being surprised until you're dead!

Thank you for telephoning to confirm you arrived safely. I know you couldn't go into details – the price of telephone calls has gotten quite scandalous. No doubt Miss Baker was listening to your every word, and you wouldn't want to tie up a doctor's telephone line. Do write and tell me all about your journey, I was not comfortable with you travelling all that way by yourself. You remember those people who got on at Montague Junction when we visited Anne at Christmas? I shudder to think of something similar happening while you were travelling alone. Did your luggage arrive safely? I was concerned that we didn't wrap the jams in enough linen before putting them into your trunk. I do hope none broke and your under-things didn't end up a sticky mess!

Since I've moved into Green Gables I've got so used to you being just across the hall I find myself standing up to walk across to tell you something, only to remember that you're away visiting Anne. So I've taken to keeping an open letter to you on my kitchen table so I can add little bits as I think of them, just as I used to wander into your kitchen when I had a thought.

Life jogs along in Avonlea. Dora has been such a help around the house, as you'd imagine. Davy has also tried to be helpful. I came down to breakfast yesterday morning to find a fresh load of timber outside the back door and Davy preparing to sharpen the axe to chop it. In days gone by I would have worried about him with cutting himself, but he has gotten real handy around the farm. It's a credit to you just how skilful he is. I was telling him so when Mr Harrison came running up red faced and annoyed. It turns out Davy had taken a pile of timber he'd stacked up ready for his kitchen fire! It was such a drama. Mr Harrison calling him a thief, Davy indignantly saying he found it by the path between our properties and thought it was there for anyone to take. I can tell you it was quite the commotion, but I managed to calm everyone down. After a cup of tea Mr Harrison saw that Davy had meant no harm, and Davy learnt that piles of lumber do not just appear beside public pathways. In the end Davy agreed to chop it all for Mr Harrison, and Mr Harrison agreed that Davy could keep half for his labour, so everyone was happy. Except Dora, who I had left warming pancakes and she forgot about them so the pancakes burnt. The chickens were glad. Which just proves that everything has a good outcome if you think of it from the right perspective, and I said so, thought it didn't seem to cheer up Dora any.

6 June 1891

I've just come back from the Ladies Aid at Mrs Barry's. Mrs Blythe was there and very excited about become a grandmother. Mrs Pye suggested that Mrs Blythe should be visiting with Anne at this time not you, as Mrs Blythe is a real mother. I put her in her place. 'Elspeth Pye,' said I, 'how dare you imply that Marilla Cuthbert is not a real mother. She may not have birthed Anne, but she has been beside her through all the key moments in her life and she will be through this.' That quietened her, I tell you. She did not say another word about it all day. I get the feeling that Mrs Blythe would like to be there too, naturally Gilbert is her boy and she doesn't have a daughter, but she commented happily that she will be glad to visit in about a month when you return. I must pop in and visit Ella more often. She seems quite drawn, no doubt Anne's confinement reminds her of the babies she lost, poor woman. She had a brave face on today though, and said she is quite excited to meet her grandson. She's convinced it is a boy from how Gilbert described Anne's pregnancy. Which reminds me, is Anne carrying high or low? Its really the only way you can tell for sure until it the baby is born.

I must go finish my new lace. Davy is heading into the village so will post this now and I will start another letter tomorrow.

Your friend,

Rachel Lynde

* * *

10 June 1891  
Four Winds

Dearest Rachel

This is easily the hardest letter I have ever had to write. I ask that you do not read it out loud to the children, I will write them separately.

Our elation has been ripped away. As you've no doubt heard our dear wee baby Joyce lived but a few short hours and slipped away as quietly as she arrived as though the setting sun took her soul to heaven. Now I sit at Anne's bedside and watch her sleep with Joyce's tiny body lying next to her. My darling girl is utterly exhausted in body and soul.

I never really warmed to Mrs Baker, but I did find her a great source of comfort as we huddled in the kitchen listening as Anne rent the air with her screams; each one threatening to split my soul wide open. All we could do was replenish the towels as yet another bloodied one was handed over and boil the inevitable kettles of water that always seem to be needed on occasions such as this. Are they really required or is that job merely a panacea for those who sit and wait?

As dreadful as that night was, it was as nothing in comparison to the terror that faced us the next day. The poor wee bairn looked beautiful wrapped in her gown, but oh so pale. Unnaturally white as if she knew she was a will-o-the-wisp not long for this world. Anne too was exhausted naturally, but still full of the elation that new motherhood brings. Yet later she could not help but pick up on our mood, our futile attempts at jollity did nothing to mollify her. Her cry of anguish when Gilbert broke the news will stay with me forever.

Poor dear Gilbert, his drawn exhausted face looked at me with such pain as he told me there was nothing he could do. I think this must be one of those times when it is better to be ignorant whereas he knew before any of us that it was hopeless. At least Anne had a few hours thinking it would all be wonderful, she expressed such euphoria; but Gilbert never even had that, he knew from the moment Joy was born that she had no chance. He has said to me privately that he feels so powerless, and he fears that she judges him for his incapacity. As if all those years at university were for naught.

The children will be grieving too, I am sure. I will write to them now. They'll want to send letters to Anne, but I would hesitate to let them. She is so fragile that I think even a well-meaning 'I want to know,' from Davy might tip her over the edge. I am struggling to hit the right note myself, but even I know that will not help.

Tomorrow Mrs Eliot and I will dress Joyce's body in the dress Mrs Moore made for her and place her in her wee coffin. Can there be any sadder sight? I doubt Anne will be well enough to make it to the funeral so I will stay with her while they bury our baby, she should not be left alone at this time.

With love

Marilla Cuthbert

* * *

10 June 1891  
Four Winds

Darling Dora and Davy,

I am sure you have questions and are terribly sad about Gilbert and Anne's loss. Sometimes God knows best and decides that even the person we most love belongs in heaven. I expect Joyce is up there now with my dear brother Matthew who did so love his daughter and will be tending to his granddaughter with all the care he can muster.

You probably want to write Anne, but not just yet my dears. She is very sad as you may expect and really not up to much. The glad sister you saw at Christmas has not made an appearance quite yet. I am sure she will be back one day, but we must give her space to grieve.

I will stay with Anne and Gilbert for a few weeks. It gladdens my heart to know that Rachel is caring for you. Please mind her as you would me and remember she is grieving too for she loves Anne like a daughter, and this is not an easy time for her either.

I am sending you all of my love darlings. You are my heart and soul, you both bring me so much delight. I don't say this often enough, but this event reminds me that I should, I love you and I thank the Good Lord above who sent you to me.

I remain your mother always,

With fondest love your mother, 

Marilla

* * *

11 June 1891

Dear Gran-Marilla,

A bonnie baby girl, how wonderful! Congratulations to you and Anne and Gilbert.

How is Anne? She will most likely be sore for a good while. Did Gilbert give Anne anaesthesia for the birth? I know he favours modern _in_conveniences (my little joke), and it has become popular since Queen Victoria used it for her eighth child, but I still feel natural is best. I gave birth to ten healthy babies without it, and I'm sure Anne would rather a more natural experience too, though I suppose what has happened has happened now so there is no point discussing it further.

Has her milk come through yet? Tell Anne gentle massaging of the breast with a warm cloth will help it come through, and if baby Joyce (such a beautiful name) doesn't latch on immediately to persevere. Babies need a strong hand, tell Anne to be firm but gentle and she will find motherhood goes smoothly.

Dora just popped in to say she is sending Anne some muslin cloths she has embroidered for the baby. I peeked into the package and they are beautifully done. That girl will make a fine mother herself one day.

Tell Gilbert he must not expect marital relations to recommence for a good eight weeks. I hear some doctors recommend starting again after six weeks, but what would they know? Tell Anne I advise she holds Gilbert off for as long as she can. Her baby's needs come first now and men don't die if they don't get their marital bliss. Is Gilbert sleeping in the spare room? Make sure he stays there to avoid any risk of him forgetting the eight-week rule!

Dora has just told me she is heading to the post office now, so I will have her send this. In fact, I might walk part of the way with her. I am surprised Mrs Barry hasn't popped in to share the good news, and she wasn't at yesterday's Prayer Meeting. I do hope none of them are ailing.

Your friend,

Rachel Lynde

PS I am bursting with joy at the thought of little Joyce and you being a grandmother. Is there any more proof of God's wonder than the birth of a beautiful healthy baby?

* * *

12 June 1891

Oh my dearest Marilla,

I've just been to the Blythe's. I didn't know. I hadn't heard. They told me Dr Dave had phoned to tell them… little Joycie only lived one day.

The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD.

Anne and Gilbert must be devastated. Ella Blythe was pretty upset herself. You know she lost five babies before she had Gilbert, though none of them made it to term like Joyce did. It seems this has brought it all back. John Blythe served me tea on the veranda, he said Ella was not quite up for visitors at the moment, and I completely understand. When I lost my Jemimah I couldn't talk to anyone but you for months, though she lived two years and not just one day.

After hearing the news I rushed to stop my other letter. I knew it wouldn't be sent until today but Miriam Sloane wouldn't hear of it; said it was property of Canada Post now and it would be a crime not to deliver it. I explained this was a sensitive issue and while I couldn't tell her the details it was vital that my previous letter was not sent, but she would have none of it. Such a Sloane. So, I do hope you have opened this first, as I instructed on the envelope and don't open the other. You don't need to read joyful baby congratulations just _now_.

Tell Anne she and Gilbert and baby Joyce are in my prayers. As it says in the psalms, the Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit, and He will take care of them both now.

Forget what I said about two months, tell Anne as soon as she feels able to get back on the horse so to speak. Another child is what she needs to heal this wound. Having baby Elijah was such a comfort to me when I lost Jemimah. A new baby will take Joycie's place and make Anne feel whole again. Anne and Gilbert need to trust in the Lord that he has plans for them to have other children. Such a couple couldn't be childless. Jesus said let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven; she may feel happy knowing her baby is safe with the Lord.

I am grateful Anne is a Presbyterian and not a Roman Catholic. They won't bury unbaptised babies in the churchyard, believing they are damned for all time. Thank goodness we know, it is not the will of my Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish.

I know you will be focused on helping Anne now, but I expect you will be home sooner than originally expected. I will air your bedroom in preparation, and make sure we have plenty of bread baked so we can sit and pray together when you return.

Until then, you are all in my prayers

Rachel


	26. Chapter 26

Marilla,

My greatest joy has turned into lifelong sorrow. When I was a wee thing you taught me to know and love the Lord, and I was still young enough to readily believe without any skepticism. How is it that you could lead me to believe such a God is kind and loving, when He has done this to me? I feel mislead. How you could make me believe, only to leave me in a hellish dream where such belief is for naught? Did you think that a child with no knowledge of God could truly be improved upon hearing of Him?  
-Anne

————

Dear Marilla,

I want to apologize for my previous letter.  
I know that you wanted only to teach me what you thought was best. I do not blame you.  
But I still cannot understand why a God who promises love could do this to one of his children.

Anne

—————

Dear Marilla,

None of the trials of my childhood have prepared me for this trial I face before me. Even my imagination leaves me dry- how could I imagine such a fate?

Gilbert- I love him now more than ever- feels as bad I do, I’m sure, along with guilt that he could do nothing to save our dear. But even he can not grasp the sorrow I feel as a mother. To have felt my little one growing within me, to know she was listening to my heartbeat for all those months and learning the sound of her mama’s voice, inextricably a part of myself- a man cannot feel such a thing. Oh, I know he hurts. But it is not the hurt of a mother whose babe was ripped from her body only to wither away.

He worries about me. His eyes are full of pain and his voice falsely bright. He wants me to start getting up a little, perhaps dressing, taking in a little more food, some sunlight and fresh air. He said, “Anne-girl, now you mustn’t wither away.”  
But his words only broke my heart all over again as I knew deep in my heart that I would happily wither away to be with my dear sweet Joy again. I could not speak those words aloud- I know they would terrify him.

Marilla, Joy’s eyes were more a stormy color- a pale gray more so than blue- a tempest. And when I looked into them I saw profound thought.  
Anyone else would say it was a ridiculous thing but I know my little girl was a deep thinker already.  
How I weep when I see her eyes in my memory- I will never know what she was thinking- all the lovely things she would have thought about and dreamed and imagined someday when she was older!  
But she will never talk to me, Marilla! I could only read her eyes, and I wanted so much more. I want to ask her things I shall never have the chance to find out. What was her favorite color?

What I cannot bear most is when the weather turns.  
I hear her cries in every gust of wind.  
And when the ground turns to mush as it storms around us, all I can think about is her precious body there underneath the mud, being pounded by the heavy rains. It is so wrong that she should be in the ground. So, so wrong. The dirt is no place for my precious girl in her lovely dress that Leslie made for her. She should be clean. I imagine her coffin filling and becoming water-logged, and when I burst into tears with this revelation, Susan said, “Why, Mrs. doctor, that little casket is sealed up good to protect her from all.” I don’t believe it- I can’t believe it. Why must we put our dead in coffins and bury them? It’s macabre. The dirt is no place for those we cherish.

But it is even worse, somehow, when the sky turns to a robin’s egg blue and the sun’s face on the sea makes it sparkle. It is unjust. The world has no right to be beautiful if my own dear sweet baby cannot be in it.

I wish always to end a letter on a cheerful note, but there is no cheer to be had here. I don’t think there ever will be again.

Your Anne


	27. Chapter 27

16 July 1891

Green Gables  
Avonlea

Darling Anne,

I just wanted to drop a line to say once more how desperately sorry I am. I hope I can convey my words more appropriately on the page than I could manage in person. I have prayed and prayed on it, Anne, as I seek for a way to console you. You have such a way with words, something that I never have had the knack for, and I feel quite wretched about our conversations last week. Don't ever think I judge you for the way you reacted, it felt perfectly natural to me.

It is understandable to doubt your faith in God in these difficult moments but there is no need to apologise to me for your first letter, none at all. You spoke to me directly from your broken heart. I want you, I need you to use me as your sounding board. That is what I am here for my darling girl. I would hate for you to feel the need to censor yourself to me, I am your mother I will always love you. I will always care for you as you did for your beautiful baby.

Once you said that you had never had anyone you were really related to and that made my heart weep, not for me but for you. Anne it is hard thing to lose the first babe who truly filled that role. I know that I am not truly related to you, though within my heart and soul you are so very close so that I no longer feel any distance between us, but I comprehend the mother sized hole in your heart which I can never hope to quite fill.

Speak with the minister again, Anne and draw comfort from your friends. Perhaps you might send a letter to Mrs Allan for, as you may remember, she shares your heartbreak. Lean on them and Gilbert; they all wish to help you through so as do I. I am here for you whatever may come.

Remember my old quote about a birth, a death and a marriage. I pray this is the only death your house will have to endure; in any case you have embarked upon the great adventure of building a home.

I so wish I could wrap you up in my arms and take away the hurt, but of course that is impossible. All I can say instead is that your hurt is my hurt, I will ever with be with you in spirit.

I pray one day you will be reunited and until then be assured that Matthew will be caring for little Joyce in heaven.

I remain your loving mother always,

Marilla


End file.
